


Arrhythmia

by pamz



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: A little bit of bondage, Alternate Universe, F/M, Former Team Member (no not that one the other one), Huge Doses of Angst, Infidelity, Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, bad language, mistaken masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamz/pseuds/pamz
Summary: AU set 5 months after the end of Season 3.  Walter still couldn't believe he was in a relationship with the woman he loved.  It hadn't been perfect, and he'd been far from perfect, but he was happier than he'd ever been in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon up to the end of Season 3. Then it's all alternate universe.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

**ar•rhyth•mi•a** , n, irregular heartbeat: an irregularity in the normal rhythm or force of the heartbeat

_____

"One o'clock sounds good." Walter O'Brien stepped out of the bathroom, Paige's bathroom, to see her sitting on the bed and speaking to someone on her cell. She must have been interrupted while getting dressed, she was wearing just a pair of jeans and a bra. Suppressing the desire stirring inside him, he toweled off his hair as a short pause ensued before she added, "Okay, see you then." Ending the call, she tossed her phone onto the comforter.

"Was that Cabe?" He didn't know who else would be calling them so early in the morning. His question must have startled her because she jumped a little before turning around to look at him.

"No," she replied slowly, "no, just an old friend I used to work with. We're getting together for lunch this afternoon, unless Cabe does bring us a case." 

Walter nodded as he found a pair of socks from one of the drawers which had been designated as his. They were practically living together. Most of his clothes and personal items has found their way into her closets and bathroom. He'd just used his own shampoo (and not just because Toby had teased him about using hers, making snide comments about how he smelled like a flower shop). 

Nothing had been said. . .yet. And he was reluctant to bring it up. It was her apartment, he reasoned, plus there was Ralph's approval to be considered. He was willing to wait until both mother and son were ready to include him into their lives full-time. But until then, he was content with the status quo.

He still couldn't believe he was in a romantic relationship with the woman he loved. Five months, three weeks, and 2 days. . . It hadn't been perfect, and he'd been far from perfect, but he was happier than he'd ever been in his life.

The sex was amazing. He knew he'd reached that conclusion without testing his hypothesis. He didn't have any other experience to compare it to, he'd never been with anyone else. The first time had been slightly awkward, but even then it had been wonderful. And it continued to be wonderful. He sincerely hoped would never stop being wonderful. Paige was the woman he was going to love for the rest of his life.

"We don't have anything else on the books today," he declared as he snatched a pair of boxers from the dresser. "It'll be a good day to go out."

She glanced up at him with a smile which seemed strangely off. He thought he'd gotten pretty good at gauging most of her emotions by reading her expressions; anger, sadness, annoyance, disappointment, happiness, pleasure. . . This appeared to be none of those, yet he knew something was bothering her. He just hoped it wasn't him. 

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." She got up off the bed and went over to the closet, taking a blouse from its hanger. She shrugged as she put it on. "It's just this friend. . . well, this friend and I didn't part on the best of terms and I've always felt kind of bad about it."

Letting out a breath of relief he hadn't screwed up again, he commented, "All the more reason why you should see her. Clearing the air is very important."

Paige grinned at him as she buttoned up her shirt. "Did you read that in one of your ladies' magazines?" she asked, and he heard the laughter in her voice.

"Maybe," he replied through tight lips as his face flushed with heat. He knew he shouldn't be so defensive about his choice of reading material, as he'd picked up several useful tips. 

He was so caught up in his embarrassment, he didn't realize Paige had moved closer until she slid her arms around his neck. "It's okay, Walter," she murmured, entangling her fingers in his hair, grazing the back of his neck, and he shivered. "I think it's great." She lightly kissed his lips. "I love you." She kissed him again, this time more passionately.

"I-I love you, too, my-my little arrhythmia," he gasped out when they came up for air.

Out of all the silly pet names he'd tried out, that one was her favorite. His, too. Although more often than not, he called her ‘love'. Because to him, she was tangible proof love existed. A low growl escaped his throat as he pulled her up against his towel clad body, taking advantage of her gasp to slip his tongue past her lips. 

"Slow down, tiger," she said after playfully pushing him away. "We're already gonna be late. And I need to go check on Ralph." 

"Okay." Reluctantly letting go, he watched as she left the bedroom in search of her son before dropping his towel and getting dressed.

_____

"I'm heading out now," Paige announced as she stood up from her chair, gathering her purse and sweater.

Walter glanced at his watch, noting it was twenty to one, before getting to his feet. "Have a good time with your friend," he said as she walked up to him. Leaning in to kiss her, he noticed the odd expression on her face again. Dismissing it as anxiety about seeing her old acquaintance again, he gave her a quick peck on the mouth. 

"Okay, then, see you later. Love you."

"Love you too," he replied as she turned and headed toward the door. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner when she glanced back over her shoulder at him as she stepped outside.

"Ugh, you two make me sick," announced Happy, making a gagging sound before she returned to the miniature elevator she was constructing for her dollhouse.

"Hopefully not too sick for lunch," Toby said, suddenly appearing at her side. The behaviorist had been hyperactive all morning, practically bouncing off the walls. Literally too, as he'd repetitively tossed a blue rubber ball against the wall behind his desk for at least an hour. He'd also challenged Sylvester to a Rubik's cube contest (losing spectacularly), before volunteering himself to help Happy, who'd had enough when he'd broke off a piece of her dollhouse's roof in his eagerness to assist her.

"I was thinking about getting burgers from place we discovered last month," the shrink was now saying. "You know, when we went after that cyberstalker. Those were good burgers."

"It's on the other side of town," Sylvester pointed out. "The food will be cold by the time you get back."

"There are these marvelous inventions called microwaves," Toby said sarcastically as he walked into the kitchen. "And, oh, look. . . We have one right here." He waved his hands like a Price as Right model to indicate the appliance.

Walter rolled his eyes at the other man's antics before nodding. "Those were good burgers. I'll take a bacon cheeseburger."

"Me, too," said Happy. "With extra pickles and a chocolate shake."

The shrink looked expectantly at Sylvester. "I brought my own lunch today," the human calculator announced. 

"Your loss." Toby turned to Walter. "Keys, boss."

"When are you going to replace your car?" said the genius as he tossed his keys to the psychiatrist.

"Why should I? You blew up Monte. Driving the company car is more than adequate compensation."

" _I_ did not blow up your car. And it's not the company car. . . It's mine," Walter complained as Toby shut the door behind him. With a sigh, he walked back over to his desk.

"Hey, Walt, got a minute?" He hadn't realized Happy had left her workbench until she tapped him on the arm. 

"Sure. What's up?" He detected a hint of worry in her tone, and it was also etched into her normally stoic face. She tipped her head to a far corner of the garage before heading in that direction.

The mechanic waited until he'd caught up with her before asking, "Have you noticed the doc acting squirrelier than usual lately?"

Walter frowned. Toby always acted like the class clown, poking and prodding and analyzing and generally getting on everyone's nerves. He was the shrink's favorite target, even more so now he and Paige were together. The sexual innuendo was almost nonstop. But other than that. . .

"I haven't really noticed," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, well, you've been too busy getting busy with Paige to notice much of anything." Happy smirked at him. 

Walter ignored her jibe. "He's just being his usual pain in the ass self." Sensing she had more than a casual interest in the behaviorist's behavior, he inquired, "Why do you ask?" 

"I think he's been gambling again."

"I thought he promised not to."

"Are you really that naive, O'Brien? People break promises all the time." She let out an exasperated breath. "He's been acting very secretive lately, and his moods are swinging, like. . .well, a swing."

"His mother was bipolar, maybe Toby is. . ." He doubted the shrink suffered from the same disorder though. It surely would have manifested before now.

Happy shook her head. "He's never been like this before. He knows how I feel about his gambling."

"Your attitude is rather hypocritical. You make bets with Sly all the time," he pointed out, knowing he was probably exposing himself to her wrath.

"That's different. It's just for fun. And Sylvester's not threatening to break my kneecaps if I don't pay up."

Walter had to chuckle at the mental image of the younger man threatening Happy over anything.

"I'm so glad you think this is amusing, you jerk." Oh, crap, he'd really pissed her off now if her glowering stare and crossed arms were any indication. "The doc made a promise to me that I hold as sacred as our wedding vows."

"So what do you want me to do about?"

"Keep an eye on the moron, maybe see if you can get any info out of him. But be subtle about it."

"I'll do what I can." He could be discreet. . . Maybe. . .

"Be subtle," she repeated before stalking back to her work bench.

Walter covered the distance back to his desk, thinking with every step the mechanic was fretting over nothing.

_____

"Hey, everyone, gather round. Got a case!"

Walter glanced up from his computer screen as Cabe strolled into the garage a week later, followed by a woman. Hitting save, he got up from his chair and joined the rest of the team around the conference table where the older man was introducing his companion to the rest of the team.

"This is Gloria Svenson. She's in charge of the Turing Institute and. . ."

"The Turing Institute?" Walter turned to grin at Sylvester, the excitement on the human calculator's face matching his own.

"You've heard of it?" The agent seemed shocked.

"Of course," said Sly giddily. "They're doing groundbreaking work in the area of theoretical computer science. They can do things with algorithms that make what Walter and I do look like toddlers goofing around."

"Yeah, if the toddlers in question had IQ's of over 180," said Toby with what Walter was sure was sarcasm. His suspicion was confirmed when Happy smacked the back of the shrink's head and gave him a dirty look.

The woman smiled at the younger man. "Thank you for thinking so," she said, a touch of a Swedish accent in her voice. 

"So what's the problem?" Walter asked, wondering why someone from one of the most advanced scientific research facilities in the world would need help from a group of misfits. Granted, some of the smartest misfits in the world, but still. . .

Cabe answered his question. "The institute is working on a highly classified assignment for the US government. Everything was going smoothly until a few weeks ago when elements of the algorithms being run for the project would randomly change."

"So they were hacked?" Again, Walter didn't understand why they were needed. He turned to look at the woman. "Surely you have in-house computer experts to track down the perpetrators?"

"We do," said Ms Svenson. "Either we weren't compromised or whomever did it was so good, they didn't leave a trace."

"That's impossible," he said. "No one's that good. Not even us. There's always some remnant left behind."

She shook her head. "Not that our highly skilled engineers could detect. So far, neither external nor internal sabotage has not been rule out. My colleagues don't agree with me, but I don't believe we've been hacked. And I don't think we've been internally infiltrated either." She flicked her eyes in the Homeland agent's direction before returning her gaze to Walter. "I understand you have encountered a quantum computer before."

Once again, he and Sly looked at each other, the other man practically salivating. "Uh, yeah. . . We, um, have," Walter replied, barely able to contain his own eagerness. "We. . ."

"I've read the report," she said. "It's amazing you all weren't killed." She shook her head and smiled, blinking in a way Walter thought something must be irritating her eyes. "But I digress."

"Is that why you need us?" Walter lifted his head sharply as Paige gave voice to the question he'd been about to ask. She was standing on the other end of the table, her arms folded firmly against her chest. And if the frown on her face was any indication, she wasn't too thrilled by this new assignment.

"Yes." The other woman's countenance sobered. "I think the quantum is changing the algorithms on its own. And I want you and your team, Mr O'Brien, to help me prove it."

"Ms Svenson," Walter said when his brain slowed down enough he was capable of speech. What she believed, what she was asking them to do. . . It was insanity. But not entirely impossible. "We're flatt. . ."

"You can call me Gloria," she said, her accent slightly stronger than before, showing him her straight white teeth. She had very sharp canines, he noted.

"Okay, Gloria." Walter knew the polite grin plastered to his face was probably more like an awkward grimace, but he couldn't help it. "It's Walter, by the way."

A choking sound came from the other side of the table, and he glanced up again at Paige. His grin dissipated in an instant. He'd obviously done something wrong, if her angry expression was anything to go by. He doubted it was because of the case, he hadn't even accepted it. . .yet. 

But he couldn't let her emotions deter him from working on one of the most challenging and intriguing missions Scorpion had ever been offered. He just hoped whatever he'd done to upset her wasn't as insane and nearly impossible to fix.


	2. Chapter 2

"Beep." It took Walter several moments to figure out the sound came from his computer in the next room, alerting him he had a Skype request.

He frowned, glancing at the clock, wondering who would be trying to contact him at 4:15 in the morning. Although it hardly mattered, since he couldn't sleep anyway. He'd been exhausted when the team had arrived back at the garage around midnight, having trekked across the country to Boston and back in a little over fifteen hours. 

Rolling over, he stared at the woman lying next to him, marveling she was even there. Paige had been in a bad mood for most of the mission, even though she kept telling him she was ‘fine' whenever he asked if she was okay. 

Still, it had been surprising she'd agreed to her and Ralph spending the night in the now-infrequently used loft. They hadn't had sex, they'd both been too tired. But she'd kissed him goodnight and snuggled herself into his arms as she drifted off to sleep.

The electronic signal on his computer went off again, and Paige stirred restlessly. Deciding he should find out who was trying to contact him before it woke her up, he slid out from under the comforter and padded over to his desk.

He pressed a couple of keys and his screen filled with the face of Gloria Svenson. "Oh," he said, startled by her appearance. Glancing downward, his face grew warm as he was clad only in a t-shirt and boxers, grateful she couldn't see below his waist. "Uh, hello?"

"Oh, I am so sorry, Walter," she apologized. "I didn't wake you, did I? I forgot about the time difference."

"No, it's okay, I was awake anyway." 

"Oh, good. I just wanted to thank you. . .and your team. . . for your assistance yesterday." She was blinking oddly again, and he wondered if her camera was going wonky or if she had some kind of neurological disorder. 

"Glad to help." 

"We should have suspected Gregor. He always seemed to be disgruntled with his work." She sighed. "It's still hard to believe he would sabotage the project by programming the algorithm to change on its own."

"There's no way you could have known he was anything other than an unhappy employee," he pointed out. "Some people aren't cut out to work for others. That's one of the reasons why I started my own business."

"So where did you go to university?" 

He frowned. "I didn't." Why would she go to all the trouble of communicating with him if she was just going to engage in banal banter. "I quit going to school after I got my junior leaving certificate when I was sixteen."

"Oh, so you're an autodidact? You know so much about computational forensics, I just assumed. . ." She blushed and smiled, flashing her canines at him. "I wanted to pick your brain about how it compares to cryptoanalysis yesterday but a member of your team interrupted."

Finally, she was getting to the reason for her call. Walter scooted closer, scraping the top of his thigh against the bottom of the desk drawer. Rubbing his leg to soothe the sting, he listened as Gloria, who sounded like she was out of breath, began to grill him about statistical pattern recognition.

_____

The alarm went off as Walter was buttoning up his shirt. Paige rolled over onto her back and yawned. Sitting up, she lifted her hair off her face then stretched out her arms.

"Good morning," he said, yearning stirring inside him as her pajama top rode up to expose a tantalizing strip of bare skin.

"Hey," she replied, looking a bit disoriented. "How long have you been awake?"

"A couple of hours." He's spent over an hour and a half discussing theoretical computer analysis with Gloria before taking a shower and getting dressed. 

She swung her legs out over the edge of the mattress, running her hand across the sheets. "It's been awhile since we've stayed here, hasn't it?"

Walter's heart skipped a beat. Was she finally going to bring up the subject of living together? "Yeah, I guess so," he said as casually as he could muster.

"I better go check on Ralph." Disappointment filled him as she stood up and walked toward the door. 

"I can check on him if you want to go ahead and shower," he offered.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." Changing directions, she headed for the bathroom, closing the door with a distinct click.

He pressed his lips together, worrying the upper one with his teeth, wondering when, if ever, they would discuss the obvious next step of their relationship. Maybe he was the one who was supposed to bring it up. He was unclear of the rules, he'd never made to the 'living together' stage before.

With a shrug, he finished buttoning his shirt before tucking it in on his way to the living room where the boy genius was sleeping.

_____

"Hey, Sly," Walter said as the younger man wandered into the garage half an hour later. He let the human calculator stow his gear and begin his morning routine of cleaning his desk before continuing, "Gloria Skyped me this morning with a theory about cryptoanalysis she wanted to run by me, uh, us."

A loud ‘thunk' came from the kitchen, where he caught a glimpse of Paige dumping the stale contents of the coffee pot into the sink. Ralph was sitting at the table, unenthusiastically eating a bowl of cereal. The boy jumped out of his chair, practically skipping over to stand beside him.

"Did you say cryptoanalysis?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I just read an article online. . ."

"Ralph, finish eating your breakfast. Carpool's going to be here in five minutes," Paige called out. He could hear the irritation in her tone, her bad mood apparently carrying over from the day before.

"Sorry, buddy. I'll tell you all about it after school, okay?" Walter crouched down as he reassured the youngster, who nodded glumly before trudging back to his breakfast.

"Geez, Paige, cut the kid some slack," the shrink commented as he and Happy strolled into the building. "He's going to be spending the next seven hours coping with his idiotic peers and being bored to out of his skull."

"We've already had this discussion," the boy's mother said tersely. "He's going to school." She slammed a cabinet door shut, shooting the psychiatrist a dirty look. Toby threw up his hands and backed away.

Sylvester smiled nervously at Walter. "So what's Ms Svenson's theory?"

Another noisy bang came from the kitchen area as a horn blared outside the building. Walter watched as Paige hugged her son before the boy genius hurried outside.

"Walter?

"Sorry, Sly." Shaking his head to clear it, he explained to the human calculator Gloria's hypothesis. 

They soon filled both the dry erase board and the chalkboard with equations and flow charts. Walter, pulling himself out of the work for a moment, glanced over his shoulder. Paige was sitting at her desk, talking to someone on her cell. An annoyed expression marred her countenance. 

He wondered who she was speaking with, especially when she seemed disturbed when she ended the call. Figuring she's let him know if it was something concerning Scorpion, he turned back to the chalkboard, where he spotted an error in one of Gloria's computations. He pointed it out to Sly, picking up a piece of chalk to fix it.

"I'm going to run some errands." Walter looked over to see Paige gathering up her purse before checking his watch, shocked to see it was almost one in the afternoon. He'd clearly lost track of time. "Is there anything anyone needs me to do while I'm out?"

"I have some dry cleaning I was going to pick up tonight," said Sylvester. "I really appreciate this, Paige. It's such a hassle on the bus. Here's the ticket." Getting to his feet, he brought it over to her. 

"Anyone else?" she asked as she stowed it in her bag.

Walter shook his head as did the others. "Okay, bye then." Paige started walking toward the door, pausing briefly before she stepped outside. Something felt off, wrong. Something important. . . 

She hadn't kissed him. She always kissed him, if not on the lips at least on the cheek before they parted. Thinking back over the rest of the morning, Walter realized she hadn't kissed him all day. They usually would have kissed a minimum of three times by lunch. But they hadn't. . .not since the night before. 

A sharp pain in his upper arm prevented him from dwelling any deeper into Paige's behavior. "Ow." He rubbed the injured spot, scowling at Happy. "What was that for?"

"You need to cool it," the mechanic replied in a low voice, pulling him away from Sylvester's desk.

"Cool what?" Her statement made no sense. He and Sly had been working on algorithms. A cooling process was not only unnecessary, but irrelevant. Unless she was talking about the hardware. . .

She slugged him again. "Gushing over the pretty computer nerd lady."

"Gloria?" He furrowed his brow. He supposed her features were symmetrical enough to be considered ‘pretty' by some. But the other woman could never compare to Paige. Admitting he might be biased in his opinion because of the love he felt for her, but to him, Paige was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Yeah, Gloria.. She's flirting with you, O'Brien. Big time," she added, no doubt sensing his confusion. "You were the only one who didn't pick up on it." Happy jerked her head in direction of the door Paige had just passed through. "And she's pretty pissed off about it. I'd castrate the doc for less."

"Why are you two discussing the removal of my testicles?" Toby threw his arm around his wife's shoulders. "I know you're always advocating for it, angel of mine, but why drag 197 into it?"

"Because he's being an insensitive ass," she replied, ducking out from under his embrace.

"That's hardly a newsflash, but it doesn't explain why _my_ cojones are in jeopardy."

"Remember our conversation from last night?"

"Which one? The one about who's turn it was to be on. . ." The shrink flinched as she raised her knee. "Oh, yeah, _that_ conversation." He turned to Walter. "You really ticked off your old lady, Big Brain."

"That's what Happy said. I still don't understand why," Walter said. It wasn't as if he'd flirted back. He'd maintained a professional attitude throughout his interactions with the other woman. He'd done nothing wrong.

"Because Ms Glorious Gloria is warm for your form, and speaking of forms, she's built like a brick shithouse."

"A what?" Walter was even more bewildered as he watched Happy threaten to slug Toby as he used his hands to indicate an exaggerated hourglass figure.

"Oh." Walter hadn't even noticed the other woman's physical attributes. 

"Plus," the shrink continued, "Paige already has an inferiority complex. You and Scientist Barbie kept nattering on in nerdlish or geekish or whatever you want to call it, which was way over her head. She felt left out. . .and like the dumb waitress."

"I had no idea." It was true, he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Paige had no reason to be jealous. She was the only woman he wanted and the only one he would ever want for the rest of his days. 

"No kidding," sneered Happy. "Just shut up about the nerd lady, okay? No more late night Skyping. . ."

"It was in the morning," he cut in.

"Whatever." The mechanic rolled her eyes. "You need to apologize for being a clueless bastard."

"It was hardly my fault," Walter ground out defensively. 

"Apologize, don't apologize, I don't care." Toby adjusted his hat. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to take care of some insurance business about the destruction of my car." He scowled at Walter before giving Happy a kiss and a pat on the bum, for which he received a obligatory jab to the stomach.

"Have you talked to him yet?" Happy asked at the door closed behind the psychiatrist.

"What? Uh. . .no?" He still believed she was worried about nothing. All of them came and went at odd intervals, living their own lives in between cases. Lately he and Toby hadn't time for more than the occasional off-color remark by the shrink or collaboration during a mission. He hadn't seen any evidence of gambling, but then, he hadn't really paid attention.

"I should have known you'd flake out on me." The mechanic glared at him with disapproval. "You need to stop pissing off the women in your life, O'Brien, or we'll team up, and it won't be pretty."

She stomped off, muttering "jackasses" under her breath. Walter stared after her as he tried to process her words. 

Paige was upset with him because another woman had flirted with him, even though he hadn't reciprocated. Grimacing, he realized she must have learned of Gloria's early morning Skype. From his point of view, it had been nothing more than one forensic analyst touching base with another. But to Paige. . .well, she saw things differently than he did, and to her, it would appear he was interested in the other woman for more than her insight on algorithms. 

Dammit, Happy was right. He _did_ owe Paige an apology. 

He turned to stare at the number and symbols scribbled on the chalkboard for a moment or two. With a weary sigh, he began erasing them.

_____

Walter stopped just under the staircase next to the garage's minuscule kitchen. Paige was washing up the day's accumulation of dirty coffee cups, yogurt spoons, and other miscellaneous items. Everyone else had gone home, except Ralph. The boy genius was working on his calculus homework at his mother's desk.

"Hey," he said, catching her attention as he leaned his shoulder against an iron support beam.

"Hey, yourself." She turned back to her dishwashing. 

"I'm sorry," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Scrubbing out a coffee mug, she asked impatiently, "For what?"

"For not realizing my interactions with Glo, uh, Ms Svenson, were upsetting you." Flicking his eyes to the floor, he then focused them on hers. "I'm a clueless bastard," he said, echoing Happy's words.

"Walter." She finished rinsing the cup, turned off the faucet, then sighed. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But you're unhappy. And it's my fault." He pushed himself upright before taking several steps toward her.

"No, it's mine. I chose to be jealous when it was plain you weren't interested in her, that she was the one who was coming on to you, not the other way around." She closed even more of the gap between them.

"I'll cut off all communication with her," he vowed, totally prepared to excise the woman from their lives. 

"No, you shouldn't have to do that. She's a respected scientist in one of your fields of expertise." Placing her hands on his chest, she smiled shyly at him. "Just no more late night, early morning Skype calls, okay?"

"Okay." Swallowing nervously, he captured her fingers with his. "You're the love of my life. I don't want anyone else."

"I know." She bit her lip, and he noted the tears shimmering under her lashes. "I love you too, Walter."

Their mouths met, the still shocking explosion of passion bursting through him as she stroked his tongue with hers. He slipped his arms around her, pulling her tight.

"Let's go home," she said breathlessly when they came up for air. 

"Okay." Walter couldn't stop a stupid grin from growing on his face. _Home_. Maybe nothing needed to be said. Maybe living together was another one of those things that didn't need to be ‘handled'. Maybe it was something that just happened. 

Feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he followed Paige and Ralph out of the garage.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of weeks later, Walter emerged from the bathroom into a darkened bedroom, the only light one of the bedside lamps. He recognized the scarf draped over it, it was the one she'd worn when they'd rescued the lost hikers a couple of years earlier. His gaze shifted to discover Paige propped up against the headboard of her bed, her legs spread-eagled across the comforter, clad in only her bra and panties and waving two more scarves, one in each hand.

"Uh. . ." The part of his brain which controlled his power of speech seemed to have shut down as he tried to process the scene before him. They were alone at her condo, Ralph was spending the night with one of his Forest Brave friends. 

She smiled at him, a smile he knew meant she was desirous of having intercourse with him. "I thought we could spice things up a little," she said, twisting the scraps of cloth. "Mama likes being tied up."

_Oh, boy_. Concern flooded through him. He was more than aware of the fact his experience in sexual matters was extremely limited. The idea he wasn't making her happy because he was inadequate. . .

His anxiety must have shown on his face because Paige got up on her knees, beckoning him to come closer. "Walter, I'm not criticizing you. . .in any way." She bit her lip before continuing. "I just thought we could add to your knowledge."

"Like an experiment?" he asked, still worried she found him lacking. 

Her whole countenance lit up and she slid off the mattress to her feet. "Exactly like an experiment," she echoed, moving so her body was pressed to his, overwhelming his senses. A situation which had not lessened since the moment he'd met her, and one he sincerely hoped never would.

"O-O-Okay." 

She laid back onto the mattress, resuming her prior position. Placing her hands against the bedposts, she raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Not too tightly, all right?"

"All right." Taking one of the scarves from her, he secured her left wrist to the post. Or at least he thought he had, until she gave a tiny pull, the cloth easily coming loose. 

"It needs to be tighter." 

"I don't want to hurt you." 

"Walter, it'll be fine," she said in a patient tone. "I let you know if it's not, okay?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He needed to put aside his squeamishness. This was something she obviously enjoyed and she wanted him to enjoy with her. It was just a modified version of the missionary position, which, with the other her being on top, were the only two positions they'd tried so far. He'd researched different positions, but none of them had held any appeal. He liked to watch her face as she climaxed, and none of the others offered such a breathtaking view.

So in spite of his misgivings, he secured her arms. When she was satisfied her bonds were snug, but not too snug, Paige lifted her chin at him. "Well, you have me at your mercy. What are you going to do with me. . .nerd?"

Walter glanced down at the t-shirt and boxers he was wearing, then back up at Paige, who was eagerly awaiting his next move. Gulping nervously, he stripped off his tee before crawling onto the bed and straddling her hips. 

He closed his eyes, letting all the sensations of her wash over him; the heat rising off her body, the scent of her lavender, the sound of her accelerated breathing. His hands found her face, his thumbs stroking her soft cheeks before he lowered his lips to barely touch hers. She squirmed beneath him, obviously wanting more. 

Deepening the kiss, he let his fingers glide down her neck to her shoulders, finally resting on her chest. He fumbled with the front clasp of her bra, grunting in triumph as it came undone. He cupped her breasts, loving how they filled his hands, the feel of their soft weight, how his darker skin contrasted with the paleness of hers. Reluctantly leaving her mouth, he worked his way down her neck, lingering for several moments at the spot behind her ear where her pulse throbbed against his lips.

Continuing downward, his tongue laved the little hollow at the base of her throat. His fingers instinctively clenched as she arched up, a groan escaping her. His eyes flicked from one of her wrists to the other, wincing as he saw the fabric strain against her flesh. His stomach lurched a little and he moved his hands to her waist.

"Walter. . ." she moaned breathlessly, "don't stop. . .please. . ."

Swallowing his worry, he lowered his mouth to her pebbled nipples. She writhed beneath him, panting his name as he suckled and teased her. He tried to focus all of his attention on pleasuring her, but the image of the cloth biting and tearing into her kept nagging at the back of his brain until it exploded to the forefront. Letting her breast slip out of his mouth, he sat up, rolling to the side of the bed where he attempted to control both his ragged breathing and his roiling gut.

"Walter. . . Walter. . ." He could hear the panic in her voice, and the exasperation underneath it. Turning to face her, he glimpsed the disappointment in her eyes before lowering his to stare at the bedspread.

"I can't. . . I can't do this," he said. "It's. . .I. . . I'm afraid. . .I don't want to hurt you."

She bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay," she acquiesced. "If you're not comfortable. . ."

"I-I'm n-not. I'm s-sorry."

"It's all right, Walter. I don't want to force you to do something you're not okay with." She tilted her head toward one wrist then the other which he took to mean she wanted him to untie her. 

He handed the scarves to her when he was finished and she ran them through her hands, smoothing out the wrinkles. "You know," she began, and he recognized the playfulness in her gaze. "Maybe we could change places? Then maybe you could see for yourself it's safe?"

Another picture flashed through his mind, one of him helpless and at her mercy, and the desire he couldn't feel before surged through him like a tsunami. "I-I think that's a g-good idea," he managed to choke out. 

A broad grin grew on her lips as she glanced down at his boxers then up to his eyes. "Oh, you do, do you?" she drawled as she twirled the scarves.

As she tied his hands to the bedposts, the fear he wasn't pleasing her still concerned him. He knew he should be more aggressive, but he was afraid. Afraid his passion for her was too powerful and he would hurt her. And hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do. 

Then Paige crawled up onto the bed and hovered over him. "Is this okay?" Unable to speak, he bobbed his head. "Well, then," she murmured into his ear as she reached down and tugged at his underwear, "get ready to beg for mercy, nerd."

_____

A few days later, Walter stepped in front of Toby's desk, where the other man was reading from a large textbook. "So, hey, got a minute?"

"Sure." The shrink took a hard look at the page he'd been scanning then turned his attention to Walter. "You have guilt markers written all over your face. What did you do?"

Well, so far this idea to subtly probe the psychiatrist about his gambling was off to a rousing start. "Nothing," he blurted out, which only served to make him actually sound guilty. "I, uh, I just wanted to know how married life is going for you?"

"Excellent." Toby popped up from his chair, tossing a glance over at Happy, whose face was covered by her welding helmet. "Why do you want to know? Thinking of popping the question to Ms Dineen?"

"Uh, n-no," Walter replied, thankful Paige was out dropping off Sylvester at an alderman event before going to get a pedicure. "It's too early. . . I mean I want. . ."

"Ah, ha, so you _are_ thinking about it," the shrink cut in, a giddy gleam in his eye. A gleam which died out as he frowned. "Just make sure she's not hitched to someone else first. You wouldn't want to be totally blindsided by the fact the love of your life is married to someone you thought was your best friend."

"Dammit, Toby, you know there was never anything romantic between Happy and me." Walter didn't know why the other man was still so upset over the sham marriage. It had been rectified to everyone's satisfaction. "And this isn't about me and Paige. It's about you."

"What about me?" The psychiatrist looked confused. . .and overly curious.

Oh, shit. So much for subtlety. "I, um, just wondered if everything was okay. . .w-with you. . .you and Happy. . ."

"Has she said something?"

"Well, uh, n-no. . .no. . ." Walter stared down at the concrete floor as he lied. Unless he asked Toby outright if he was gambling again, he didn't know any other way to bring it up. "You know what. . .forget it."

"No, if you have something you want to say, you need to use your words, 197," said the shrink condescendingly. 

With a weary sigh, Walter knew he needed to distract the behaviorist or the other man would chip away at him until he crumbled. "Okay, y-you were right, it is about me and Paige," he began, "but about. . .living together, not m-marriage."

"Aren't you two shacking up already?"

"Not officially."

"And you want to make it official?"

"Yes. But. . .But it's not just about me." Walter rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, wondering how his attempt at prevarication had turned into an actual concern. "I mean, there's Ralph to consider and. . .and maybe she's not ready. . .and. . ."

"You're worried Paige's abandonment issues are holding her back from making a commitment?"

"No. Maybe. Yes."

Toby walked up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Listen, buddy," he said conspiratorially. "I don't think she's the one with commitment issues. You're the moron who spent years spouting off to her about love being a chemical imbalance and junk science. She's probably holding back from suggesting you two live in sin because she's afraid of what your reaction will be." He shook his head. "My prescription is to sit down and talk to her and find out what she wants. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dentist's appointment."

Walter watched as the other man stalked over to his wife, who pulled off her helmet so he could kiss her. Feeling like he was intruding on a private moment, he turned away, picking up his empty mug from his desk and going to the kitchen for a refill. The garage door closed with a bang, and he knew he only had a few moments before. . .

"So, did you talk to him?" Happy was quicker than he thought she'd be. 

"Yeah." He could hardly deny the obvious as he was sure she'd been observing his conversation with the psychiatrist the whole time.

"So what he'd say?" she asked eagerly. "Is he gambling again?"

"I don't think so." Which wasn't a lie, since he really didn't believe the shrink had taken up his old habit again. 

The mechanic glared at him suspiciously. "Is that just your opinion or do you have some solid facts to back up your statement."

Dammit. He should have known he wouldn't be able to fool her. "Opinion." When she raised her fist, he held up his hands. "I'm the fifth smartest person alive. My opinion is usually spot on."

"Your opinion is worth shit, O'Brien," she hissed and Walter could see she was near tears, which he chose to ignore for his own safety. "You're not the one who smells the cigarette smoke on his clothes. You're not the one who still paying off the debts he owes to every goddamn bookie in town. You're not the one who has to worry about having the rug pulled out from under you." 

She spun around, stomping her way back to her workbench. "Happy, wait." Walter followed her, risking the high probability she'd hit him. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said as he cautiously approached her. "I tried. . .I don't know how to bring it up without just asking him point blank."

She glanced up at him and exhaled loudly. "Yeah, I guess it's not your fault you suck." He started to protest but she cut him off. "What I mean is you're not any better at this relationship crap than I am."

"Yeah," he conceded, "we may not be the robots we were a few years ago, but. . ."

"There's still some circuitry and machine oil left in our veins," she finished. Scrunching up her face for a few moments, she added, "Fine, you're off the hook. I probably shouldn't have drug you into our problems in the first place."

"It's okay, it's what friends do for each other. Help each other out." Walter grinned. "At least that's what I hear."

Happy rolled her eyes. "Don't get all sappy on me, jackass." She picked up her welding torch. "Now, unless you want me to use this on you, leave me alone."

Knowing her threat wasn't entirely an idle one, he wandered back to the kitchen to retrieve his cup of coffee.

_____

"What's wrong?"

Sylvester's question startled Walter as he frowned at his computer about a week later. "Uh, nothing. . .really," the genius answered as the other man stood in front of him. "I've been running one of Glo, er, Ms Svenson's algorithms and its results are. . .are, well, unexpected." 

He glanced over at Paige, who was busy filing paperwork at her desk. Mention of the computer scientist's name still irritated the liaison, even though she claimed she was okay with him consulting with the other woman. But thankfully, she appeared to be caught up in her work and not paying attention to his conversation with Sly.

"What were you running?" The human calculator tried to peer around the corner of the desk. Walter hit save then turn off his screen.

"Nothing important." He got to his feet, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. "Just some random facts."

"Oh." Sylvester looked concerned for a moment, then smiled broadly. "I really liked her. Ms Svenson, I mean."

Walter grunted a reply, not wanting to tread into such dangerous territory. "Well, I'll let you get back to it," said Sly, taking the hint he didn't want to discuss the woman any further.

Waiting until the other man went back to his desk, Walter fired up his computer again, staring at the disturbing anomaly he'd uncovered. Despite Happy releasing him from keeping tabs on Toby, he'd decided to keep track of everyone's comings and goings. Not only to plan an efficient electrical use schedule, but also to satisfy his own curiosity.

He wished now he hadn't. Everyone moved in more or less the same patterns every day. Almost everyone, that is. Two people were leaving the garage during work hours several days a week, and for extended periods of time. And those absences overlapped by nearly 75%

Hoping he was just being paranoid (but knowing deep down his hope was inconsequential), Walter stared at the indisputable data something suspicious seemed to be going on between Toby and Paige.


	4. Chapter 4

It was preposterous. Ludicrous. Improbable. Absurd. 

Walter didn't want to believe it could be true. He'd struggled to come up with a logical explanation over the last five days since he'd discovered the anomaly. It had to be just a coincidence. He was being paranoid. Paige was seeing Toby professionally, away from the garage, where nothing was a secret for long. But even constantly telling himself he was worrying over nothing, his brain kept circling back to same implausible fact. The love of his life and his best friend were having an affair.

Of course, he hadn't mentioned his suspicions to Happy. The mechanic would either laugh in his face and call him a nasty name, or she'd completely lose it and the aftermath wouldn't be pretty. She already thought the shrink had resumed his gambling. Finding out he may be cheating on her would more than likely send Happy over the edge. And that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He watched as Paige unpacked several grocery bags, distractedly placing items in the garage's ancient refrigerator. She'd left to go shopping more than three hours earlier, claiming a traffic accident and long lines at the market delayed her return. Any other time, he would have accepted her excuses without question. But now. . .

Toby had gone out about twenty minutes before she had, and had returned ten minutes before she'd come back. The behaviorist had headed straight over to Happy, teasing and harassing her until she threatened him with a wrench. Not acting at all as if he'd been betraying his vows - marriage or otherwise. 

Deciding to approach Paige, he made his way into the kitchen. "So, hey, is everything okay?" he asked, trying to keep his mistrust out of his tone.

"What?" Paige snapped her head around to stare at him, obviously startled by his question. "Uh, yeah, fine." She set a carton of yogurt onto a shelf. "Just a bit of a headache."

She did look pale, and a little green as well. "Maybe you breathed in more of the rocket fuel fumes yesterday than you thought," he suggested, remembering the close call they'd had the day before.

"Maybe. Although they should have affected you even more. You were nearly immersed in the stuff." Shutting the fridge door, she took a box of cereal out of the canvas bag and shoved it into a cabinet. Her hand shook and her face grew whiter. 

"Paige." He reached out, touching her arm. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm. . .I'm. . ." She bit her lip and he saw tears welling up in her eyes. "It happened so fast. . .and he didn't stop. . .and. . ." 

_Oh, shit_. He'd been so wrapped up in his suspicions he'd forgotten she'd witnessed a car wreck. "It's okay, love," he said as he drew her into his arms.

"Oh, God, Walter." She was trembling like a leaf as the shoulder of his shirt grew damp. He kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair in what he hoped was soothing manner.

"Maybe you should go home for the rest of the day," he suggested as she pulled back, wiping at her wet cheeks. 

"I'm s-sorry. That. . .That would be nice. . . If it's n-not too much trouble. . . "

"No trouble at all. Just let me finish up."

"Okay." She sat down at the kitchen table, still a little pale and shaky. "Hey," she said as he started to walk away, "after you drop me off, you could go pick up Ralph from school. You two could have a boys' night out."

"He has been talking about the new physics exhibit at the science museum," Walter replied eagerly. He'd wanted to attend it as well, but he knew Paige wouldn't be interested. He'd learned his lesson with Linda about the difference between romantic dates and field trips. "We could go there then get pizza."

"That would be perfect." She smiled unconvincingly as she stood up. "I need to put away the rest of the groceries."

Walter frowned as she opened a cupboard and stashed a package of saltine crackers. "Did you already give a statement?"

"A statement?"

"Yes, to the police. About the accident. . ." he added as she stared at him blankly.

"What. . .? Oh, yeah." She chuckled without mirth. "It. . .It was an accident. A terrible accident. I gave a statement, all right."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," he said, kissing her forehead. She flinched under his lips and he retreated. "Oh, sorry. I forgot about your headache."

"It's fine." She grimaced a little. "That you kissed me, I mean, not my headache." Placing her fingers on her temples, she gave them a little rub.

"Are you sure you'll be all right by yourself?" Walter's concern hadn't lessened. She was trying too hard to act as if everything was fine when she obviously wasn't. Her face was wan and she was still quivering.

"I just need some peace and quiet." She walked toward her desk. "Just drop Ralph off by ten, okay?"

"Drop. . .him. . .off?" He'd followed her, coming to an abrupt halt at her request. Confusion collided with alarm. Was she saying she didn't want him. . .? It had been over two months since the last time they hadn't spent the night in the same bed. And that was only because they'd been on a case and there hadn't been any beds to share.

"Yeah," she said, averting her eyes as she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. . ."

"No, no, it's okay," he lied. No, no it wasn't. The same myriad of possibilities he'd been contemplating previously swirled through his head as he sat down in front of his computer. He dismissed them with a self-deprecating sneer, scolding himself for being an inconsiderate asshole, only thinking of his own needs. It was apparent she wasn't feeling well and just needed some time to herself. One night away from her wasn't going to kill him.

And as long as he believed that, the longer he could convince himself everything between them was all right. With a growl of disgust, he shut down his laptop.

_____

"Hey, Happy, you got a minute?"

The mechanic lowered her hand holding a mallet she'd been using to pound out a dent. "Yeah, sure." She set the tool aside. "Needed to take a break anyway. So what's up?" Flexing her fingers, she glanced up at him expectantly.

Now that he had her attention, Walter gulped nervously. They were the only ones there that afternoon. Ralph, of course, was at school. Sylvester was at a city budget meeting. Cabe had taken Allie out to lunch. And Paige and Toby. . . Well, they had left within minutes of each other, both claiming to have doctor's appointments.

He'd spent almost as many nights alone at the garage as he had at Paige's condo in the last fifteen days. And on those days they did sleep together, more often than not they had just slept. He wanted to blame his suspicions on his growing paranoia, but it was becoming too coincidental to ignore.

"Uh, Happy, you're female. . ." he began inauspiciously, not really wanting to have this discussion with her. But he'd eliminated everyone else; Toby and Paige for obvious reasons; Sylvester, the only person more inexperienced than he was; Cabe. . . Well, he could have talked to Cabe, but he sensed the older man was having his own issues with Allie. The mechanic probably wasn't the most ideal person to question, but he really had no other choice.

"Glad you're putting that 197 IQ to good use there, genius," she said in what he assumed was sarcasm. 

"Yeah, so, uh, you and Toby. . . I was wondering, not because of any prurient reasons, but. . ." He took a deep breath. "How often do you and Toby, you know. . ." 

"Are you kidding? It's none of your business, O'Brien." She reached toward the mallet, stopping just short of picking it up. "Why do you want to know?' she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"It's, um, it's. . .you've been married as long as Paige and I have been together and I'm-I'm just curious if . . .if, uh, interest. . .interest starts to wane after a certain period of time."

She exhaled, and her face softened. "The doc and I have been ‘bumping uglies' as he would so succinctly put it for a lot longer than you and the waitress." She grinned. "There hasn't been any ‘waning' of interest though. We're trying to have a baby."

"Oh." He didn't know what he was supposed to do with that news. Procreating wasn't something he'd ever thought of, not until recently anyway. That his friends were actively attempting it. . . It didn't fit into the sordid scenario he'd created in his mind. "So, uh, are you. . .?" 

"Not yet." He noticed the disappointment in her voice before she continued, "You must not be doing it right if you're already losing interest. . ."

"It's not me," he blurted out, instantly regretting his words. "I mean. . ."

"Same principle applies," the mechanic cut in. "You must not be doing it right if she's losing interest."

"She seems to enjoy it, you know, when we. . ."

"Ew, I don't need details, dumbass." Happy sighed. "You probably just need to spice things up."

"Like the costumes you and Toby are so fond of?" He shook his head, not understanding that aspect of their marriage.

"Yeah, like costumes," she replied with a smirk. "There's also role playing, lingerie. . ."

"Bondage?" One of the recent occasions they engaged in intercourse, she'd finally convinced him to tie her up again, and although he'd gone through with it, he hadn't really enjoyed it. The thought of hurting her. . . It had weighed heavily on his mind the whole time. He was sure Paige had picked up on his feelings because she hadn't asked him for a repeat performance.

"Yeah, that too." She stared at him with a strange look in her eye. "So, which one of you likes being tied up?" She put out her hand. "No, wait, I don't want to know. I don't even want to be having this conversation at all. You're going to have to take your freaky sexual problems somewhere else."

The garage door banged shut, drawing their attention. "Who has sexual problems?" asked Cabe as he walked toward them.

"No one," mumbled Walter unconvincingly.

Taking off his sunglasses, the Homeland agent turned to Happy. "Uh, if you're dispensing advice about sex, I, uh, have a question. I'm, I mean Allie and I are ready to take the next step in our relationship, and uh. . . And you know she's younger than me, and I'm not sure about birth control. I don't even know if she even needs it anymore. It's been over twenty years since. . ."

"Oh, God, why me?" the mechanic moaned, interrupting Cabe's ramblings.

"Because you're a female. . ." Walter began, oblivious to the fact her question was rhetorical.

"You already pointed that out earlier, dummy."

"But you're not like other females, you're, uh. . .more like one of us,. . . uh, a guy. . . Not that you're not, uh. . ." Walter realized he was explaining it badly when she lifted her hand toward him. "You know what I mean. . . Cabe, you tell her. . ."

"Oh, no, I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole." The agent took a step back, holding up both hands as if to ward off the angry mechanic.

Happy rolled her eyes. "Okay, listen up, morons. You," she pointed at Cabe. "You just need to ask Allie if she's on the pill. And bring a condom with you anyway."

"Just one?"

"Bring a whole freaking bushel of them. I. Don't. Care." She then directed her attention at Walter. "You also just need to ask Paige what's going on. You probably won't like her answer, but it's probably something your ignorant genius ass needs to hear. So just ask her, stupid."

She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm discussing this with either of you clueless bastards. And if you ever repeat what I said to anyone, I'll kill both of you."

"If I ever repeat what you said, I'll kill myself," Walter grumbled, yelping "Ow!" when she slugged his upper arm before walking off.

Cabe made the mistake of chuckling as Walter rubbed the sore spot on his biceps. Happy spun around, slugged the agent in the arm, then stalked off toward the bathroom.

Walter looked over at the older man, who appeared to be as confused as he was. Clearing his throat, Cabe finally broke the silence. "I need a cup of coffee," he said, "with a shot of whiskey."

"I don't have any whiskey," Walter replied, furrowing his brow. "I think Toby still has some tequila in his desk."

"I'm kidding, kid. It's barely past two in the afternoon."

Not understanding why the time of day had anything to do with consuming alcohol, Walter was about to ask that very question when a loud creak announced the arrival of the shrink. 

"Hey, where's my blushing bride?" he inquired as he strode across the room.

"Ladies' room." Cabe's face grew red as he answered the doc's question.

Toby stopped in his tracks. "She's okay? No vomiting? No sudden urges to urinate?"

It took Walter a moment or two to realize the psychiatrist was trying to determine if Happy was displaying symptoms of pregnancy. "No, nothing like that," he replied. "We, uh. . . I think we kind of upset her."

"Upset her?" The shrink put his hands on his hips. "What did you schmucks do?"

"We just asked for some advice," Walter stated defensively. "From a woman's perspective," he added as the other man opened his mouth to protest that if they needed advice, they should have come to him.

"Don't you both have your own women to upset?" Toby glared from one to the other. "Now mine's going to be all pissed off and I didn't even get the pleasure of being the one to do it. Thanks a lot, you putzes."

He breezed past Walter on his way to his desk. A strong scent of lavender wafted through the air behind the behaviorist, hitting Walter's nose like a punch to the gut. 

It was preposterous. Ludicrous. Improbable. Absurd. And as illogical as it was, he still wanted to believe it wasn't true. 

The love of his life and his best friend were having an affair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's plea for mercy: Please don't hate me.

"Walter?"

He looked up from his laptop to see Ralph standing in front of him. Unable to read the boy's expression, he answered warily, "Yes?" 

"Can we talk? In the trailer?"

"Uh, sure." Walter followed him to the turquoise caravan. It was late afternoon, a couple of days after Toby had come back doused in lavender. The boy genius had been doing his homework, but Walter had a feeling whatever the youngster didn't want to discuss in front of the rest of the team, it wasn't his school work.

Ralph closed the door as soon as Walter stepped inside. "Do you remember the conversation we had eight months, two weeks, and five days ago in this exact location?"

Every word. Quite vividly, in fact. Even if he hadn't possessed an eidetic memory, he would never forget the boy he thought of as his son telling him he'd hurt his mother. "Uh, yeah," he replied. "Ralph, I thought we. . ."

"When I said I'd fight you if you ever hurt my mom again." Walter watched as the boy's hands curled into fists. "And I meant physically, not just emotionally."

"What?" He was truly baffled. "What are you talking about? I would never. . .I would never hurt Paige . . .that way. Physically, I mean."

"I saw the bruise on her arm, Walter." 

"Oh." The last time they'd been intimate, two nights earlier, he'd noticed the purple bruise on her right arm. "She said she hit it on a door," he said, repeating what she'd told him when he'd asked about it

Ralph sighed with a weariness only a 13 year old could pull off. "You do know that's the classic excuse for someone who's being domestically abused," he stated coldly. "Plus it looks like a handprint."

Wondering where youngster had learned about domestic violence, guessing he either looked it up online or at school, Walter ran his hand through his hair. He, too, thought it appeared to have been made by someone squeezing her upper arm. "It wasn't me, Ralph. I would. . .I would never do that to anyone. And certainly not your mother. I love her and I respect her and. . . I would never. . ."

His words trailed off as the boy glared unnervingly at him for several minutes. Then Ralph nodded. "I believe you," he said. "Still doesn't explain how she got hurt." 

Walter closed his eyes. He had a good idea of how it had happened. . .and by whom. But he had no proof of the affair, and besides, he wasn't about to tell the youngster of his suspicions. "We, uh, had a pretty crazy case a few days ago," he lied, unable to look the boy in the eye. "Your, uh, mom. . . She doesn't want you to know. . . to know sometimes things get a little rough. . .and. . ."

"I know you guys risk your lives. I've seen you all come back to the garage bruised and bloody. I'm not stupid." Ralph rolled his eyes.

"I know you're not. Sorry, buddy." 

"I'm sorry, too. I should have realized you'd never do that. . . Not intentionally anyway." Ralph's shoulders sagged. "I better go finish my homework."

He exited the trailer, leaving the door open as Walter sat down on the dinette couch. Watching as Paige ruffled her son's hair before heading toward the kitchen, he then dropped his head into his hands. He didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. He needed to know what was going on, because he still found it hard to believe anything untoward was going on between her and Toby. It just didn't make sense.

With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet and stepped out of the RV.

_____

Later that night, Walter collapsed on top of Paige with a grunt, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding out of his chest. He rolled off of her and she snuggled up against him, a smile on her beautiful face.

"Love you, babe," she said before kissing him on the cheek.

"Wait." He reached for her before she completely rolled over. He'd been surprised she'd invited him to spend the night at the condo, although his overnight stays had increased in the past week. He'd put a concentrated effort into being the one who initiated intercourse between them, and she seemed to enjoy his endeavors. That or she'd gotten better at faking it. 

He didn't know why she'd thought she could fool him. His sensitivity to touch extended to all areas of his body. He could tell the difference. 

"What?" She was gazing at him with concern, and he wondered how long he'd been lost in his own head. 

"Uh, I was just. . . Everything's okay. . . okay between us?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" She raised herself up onto her elbow, using her other hand to stroke his face.

"I don't know. . . Sometimes you seem. . ." Distant. Disinterested. Detached. Feelings he was all too familiar with, feelings he had cultivated back when he'd tried to be a robot.

"I've been a little tired lately." She pressed her lips to his cheek again. "We're fine, sweetheart. More than fine. I love you." 

He wanted to believe her so badly. But doubt still nagged at the back of his brain. With a mental shake of his head, he silenced his qualms, scolding himself for overthinking, looking for problems where there were none. Self-sabotage. He was holding himself back from finding happiness with the woman of his dreams. He truly was a moron.

Gathering Paige into his arms, Walter kissed her hard and fast. Her eyes were wide as he released her, and he grinned with satisfaction. "What was that for?" she asked in a dazed voice.

"I love you, too, my little arrhythmia," he said before pressing his lips to hers again.

_____

"Don't forget Ralph and I have that mother-son thing after school this afternoon," Paige said the next morning as they strolled into the garage.

"That's today?" He had forgotten about it, even though now he recalled her mentioning it the night before. His mind had been preoccupied with other things. Stupid things. Things he no longer believed mattered..

"Yep." She set her purse down on her desk. "It should be over with by five. Why don't you meet us at Kovelsky's and we'll pick up dinner?"

"Sounds good." Relief swept through him as she smiled lovingly at him. She was inviting him to spend the night again. Whatever had been wrong between them for the past couple of months seemed to be righting itself. Maybe it had been her abandonment issues causing her to step back? Maybe she picked up on his apprehensions and had given him room to breath?

The rest of the day was quiet, no case from Homeland, no private job. He spent his time catching up on paperwork as had Paige. Toby, Happy, and Sly had amused themselves for most of the morning by playing an odd game which appeared to be a combination of hide and seek and Trivial Pursuit. Cabe had bowed out of their nonsense, as he called it, and settled himself on the couch with a Louis L'Amour novel until Allie came by to take him out to lunch.

The office phone rang while Paige was in the kitchen fixing them all sandwiches. The others were still playing their game so he answered it. "Hello?" 

"Walter?" He barely recognized the voice of Beth, the college student who was also Ralph's aftercare sitter, on the other end of the line. She sounded borderline hysterical. "Can you tell Paige I won't be able to pick up Ralph after school today? My dad. . . There's been an accident. . .He's in surgery."

"I'll tell her," he said, adding, "Don't worry, she didn't need you today anyway. There's an event at school this afternoon and she's picking him up herself."

"There is? Paige didn't say anything to me." The babysitter seemed even more panicked. "Are you sure? Ralph was going to help me with a coding project that's due tomorrow. Oh crap. . ."

His stomach churned sickeningly as he echoed Beth's sentiment. Someone was lying and he didn't think it was the babysitter. "It's okay, I probably got the days mixed-up," he said with a forced chuckle. "Don't worry, I'll pass your message on to Paige. And uh, hope your dad will. . .will be okay."

"Oh, thank you," she said. "I'll give Paige a call when I know more. Thanks, Walter."

The line went dead. He stood there, the receiver still pressed against his ear, too stunned to even move.

"Hey." Paige's greeting penetrated his brain and he watched as she placed a sandwich on a plate on his desk. "Are you okay?" she asked, staring at him worriedly. "Who was it? It's not bad news, is it?"

"No," he said, perjuring himself as he hung up the phone. "Wrong number."

"Oh." She patted him on the shoulder as she gestured toward the sandwich. "Chicken salad," she said, "with chopped fermented herring bits, just the way you like it." Leaning forward, she kissed him on the mouth.

"Uh, thanks," he mumbled. 

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he replied absently. "Trying to figure out a problem I haven't been able to solve."

"Okay." She smiled at him, giving his arm a pat. "Good luck." 

Spinning around, she headed back to the kitchen. He more or less fell into his chair, his legs no longer able to support him. He pushed the plate aside, the thought of eating making him ill.

It had to be a simple misunderstanding. Beth had her dates wrong. She was upset. Worried about her father. She wasn't thinking clearly. He wanted to accept that explanation. He just didn't know if he could.

As three o'clock grew closer, he gave up trying to concentrate. His eyes had followed both Paige and Toby around the garage all afternoon. He had searched for any sign, a gesture, a look, something that would give them away. He'd seen nothing out of the ordinary. But then he wasn't a world class behaviorist or a neurotypical whose mother was a conwoman.

"Oh damn." Toby startled him by jumping out of his chair. "I just remembered a dentist appointment at three. Gotta split." He practically skipped his way over to Happy, gave her a quick peck on the lips, then scurried out the door.

Walter flicked his wrist to check the time. 2:34. Closing his eyes, he tried calm himself by breathing in slowly, then exhaling. When that didn't help, he began tapping his pen on his desk. 

"Walter. . . Walter." Dropping his pen, he glanced up to see Paige standing in front of him. "Still working on your puzzle?"

Puzzle? What was she talking. . . "Yeah," he said as he recalled the half truth he'd told her earlier, "You're leaving?"

"Yeah." As he got to his feet, she came around his desk, putting her arms around his neck. "I'll see you later. . .at Kovelsky's."

"Right. Kovelsky's. Five o'clock." Her lavender tickled his nose, stirring his senses. They were further heightened when she wove her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. 

"You were listening. Good boy," she said with a laugh, kissing his cheek. 

"I love you." And he did. He always would. Nothing would ever change that. "I, uh,. . ."

"I love you, too." she said before pressing her lips to his for a brief moment. "I gotta go or I'll be late. Bye."

"Goodbye."

She threw him a look over her shoulder as she walked away he couldn't interpret at first. Then it dawned on him. It was guilt. 

The door had barely closed behind her as he yanked open his desk drawer. "Dammit, where are my car keys?" He focused his attention on Happy. "Did. . .T-Toby. . ." The other man's name tasted bitter on his tongue. "Did he take my car?" 

"No, he took my truck." The mechanic took off her welding helmet. "What's up?"

"I need you to go pick up Ralph from school," he said, finally spying his keys in his inbox.

"Why?"

"Just do it, okay?" 

"I don't have a vehicle, dummy," Happy shouted as he sprinted across the garage floor. 

Walter came to a halt by the door. "I don't care. Just make sure someone picks up Ralph."

"Where the hell. . .?" He didn't stick around to hear the rest of the mechanic's question as he exited the garage in time to see Paige's car head down the alleyway. Jumping into the driver's seat of his Malibu, he cranked the ignition and took off after her. 

He followed her as she traveled northward, her bright red car making it easy to spot her in traffic. Deep down, he knew she wasn't sleeping with the shrink. Mainly because Happy would kill both of them (and probably him too) if she ever found out. Plus Paige had been cheated on before. She knew first hand how it felt to be betrayed by someone she loved. He was certain she wouldn't want to inflict that kind of pain on someone else. 

There had to be another simple, and more logical explanation. Waiting at a stop light, he reran the day's events through his head, checking to see what he'd missed. His brain latched onto something he'd thought of earlier. Veronica. Paige's mother. The conwoman currently pretending to be dead to keep the Slavic Mafia from killing her. 

Had she been meeting with her mother all this time? It made sense. And she was being secretive because the less people who knew, the safer they would be. That was logical. She and her mother had their differences. . .but if Veronica was in trouble, Paige would still help her. Because that was the kind of caring woman she was.

Confident he'd finally figured it out, he almost missed Paige turning into the parking lot of a Motel 6. Glancing around, he realized they were in Arcadia, across the street from the Santa Anita raceway. Which used to be Toby's home away from home.

_Oh, shit_. His belief in her innocence wavered as she slipped her car into the space in front of room 105. Driving through the parking lot, he pulled into a spot on the other side of the lot, getting out of his vehicle as she stepped out of hers.

Wrung out from the emotional roller coaster he'd been riding all day, he swallowed nervously as she walked up to the door and knocked. It opened slowly, revealing the room's occupant. He could only stare as Paige launched herself into Tim Armstrong's arms, kissing the other man enthusiastically on the mouth. The former intern grabbed her ass, pulling her inside.

Walter's heart started beating erratically, his breath caught in his throat. His stomach lurched as heat swept over him, drenching him with sweat. Darkness inched its way across the edge of his vision. He made a grab at his car to steady himself as he grew lightheaded, but his hand slipped off the slick metal surface. 

A fading voice called out, "Hey, mister, are you okay?" as he fell to the ground. He realized as he lay on the sun-warmed pavement, hazy shadows of people gathering around him, he'd suffered an arrhythmia. It was his last conscious thought before everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter backtracks to the beginning of the story and will parallel the first few chapters, but from Paige's point of view. You may or may not have noticed, but the first 5 chapters have all been Walter's POV. I probably will not do five chapters of Paige's POV, but never say never, right?

Paige stood in front of her closet deciding which blouse to wear. Water was running in the bathroom, where Walter was taking a shower. She smiled as she realized they were practically living together, mostly staying at the condo with the occasional night at the garage.

Being with Walter for the past five months had been amazing. Not perfect by any means. Walter was still Walter after all. But he'd gotten over the worst of the ‘ga-ga-goo-goo eyes' stage of being in love, which had been sweet, but also exasperating at times.

And the sex. . .oh, my, the sex. She'd never had a partner who cared more for her needs than his own before, and it was wonderful. He was a bit predictable, as it was all new to him, and he had something of a prudish streak, which she suspected was a leftover from his Irish Catholic upbringing. 

But she was happy, Ralph was ecstatic, and Walter. . . Well, she loved him with ever fiber of her being.

Her cell rang, and she crossed the room to pick it up. Sitting down on the recently rumpled bed, she answered it without checking who the caller was first. This early in the morning, it was almost always Cabe, letting them know they had a case.

"Hello, Ca. . ." she began before a very familiar voice, one she thought to never hear again, cut short her greeting.

"Paige?" 

"Tim?" she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. _Oh, God_. Relief filled her at the sound of the shower still running in the other room.

"Yeah. Hey, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

She tried to do the math in her head, figuring it must be early evening in Jordan. "No, it's okay. I'm just getting ready for work."

"I just wanted to let you know I'm back in Los Angeles."

"Already?" She raked her hand through her hair. "I thought you signed up to stay in Jordan for another eight months." His decision to extend his stay in the Middle East had driven the spike into their nearly dead relationship.

"I did. They decided to transfer me to the LA office ahead of schedule."

"Oh. Well, that's great," she said with a false cheerfulness. 

"So, hey, I was wondering if you'd like to go to out to dinner. . ."

Oh, God, he didn't know. Which was hardly surprising. She hadn't spoken with him since they broke up, and as far as she knew, no one else on the team had either. She had to nip this in the bud. "Tim, I'm with Walter now."

There was silence on the other end of the line for several minutes. "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to blurt it out like that, but. . ."

"You're telling me to back off. I understand." She heard the pain in his voice, wondering if he still had those kind of feelings for her, ones she really never had for him. Ones which had made her feel guilty and more than a little sorry for him. 

"Tim, I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right. I should have known O'Brien wouldn't have wasted any time making his move," he sneered.

Any trace of pity for him dried up in an instant. "It wasn't like that. He gave me time. . . We've only been together a few months."

"Oh." She could tell he was upset. And it was all her fault. For leading him on in the first place, using him to forget her feelings for a certain curly-haired genius. Tim had been a fun companion, an outlet for whenever she suffered from ‘genius' overload. And although she'd never admit it to anyone, a very adventurous lover. 

Making up her mind, she said before she could change it, "We could get together for lunch. For old time's sake."

"I'd like that. When?" he asked eagerly.

"I should be free today unless we pick up a case."

"Today's good for me too. How about one o'clock at that Mexican place we used to go to?" he suggested.

"Pan de Vida?" She hadn't been there since they'd split. Walter had mentioned going there once but she'd dismissed it without really telling him why. "One o'clock sounds good." 

"One it is. And Paige. . .thanks." 

"Okay, see you later then." Ending the call, she tossed her phone aside. 

"Was that Cabe?" Stifling a gasp she turned to see Walter had emerged from the bathroom. Wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, he used another to dry his damp curls. She bit her lip at the sight of his half-naked form. He wasn't as athletic or as muscular as. . .well, other men she'd known. But he felt so perfect in her arms, and that was all that mattered.

"No," she replied, mentally shaking herself for drooling over her boyfriend's body as he looked expectantly at her. "No, just an old friend I used to work with." It wasn't a lie, not really. "We're getting together for lunch this afternoon, unless Cabe does bring us a case."

Walter nodded as he rummaged around for socks and underwear. "We don't have anything on the books today. It'll be a good day to go out."

She glanced up at him, smiling to hide the conflict in her head. 

"Is everything okay?" he asked, a mixture of worry and nervousness furrowing his brow.

Crap, he was getting way too good at reading her emotions. But then he was a genius after all. She should just tell him she was having lunch with Tim. But the mere mention of the former intern's name still caused Walter to bristle like a hedgehog. A tight-lipped pained expression would fall over his face, and the wounded look in his dark eyes. . . Avoiding any remarks about the ex-team member made life easier.

"Yeah." Getting up off the bed, she slipped a pink cotton blouse from its hanger and shrugged it on. "It's just this friend. . ." she said as Walter gazed at her expectantly. "Well, this friend and I didn't part on the best of terms and I've always felt kind of bad about it."

That much was true. Tim's unilateral decision to extend his stay in Jordan had been the last straw in their doomed relationship. She'd been pissed yet another man had picked his career over her. They'd both said some things they'd regretted, at least she had. 

Paige heard Walter's sigh of relief before commenting, "All the more reason why you should see her. Clearing the air is very important."

Grinning as she buttoned up her blouse, she teased him about his "ladies" magazines. She thought it was sweet though, and a sign he was still dedicated on improving his EQ. She moved closer, noticing his defensiveness about his choice of reading material, and slid her arms around his neck. 

"It's okay, Walter. I think it's great," she murmured, entangling her fingers into his dark curls. She gently touched her lips to his. "I love you." She kissed him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth. 

"I love you, too, my little arrhythmia," he said breathlessly. 

Guilt swept through her as the silly pet name made her shiver. She should just tell him. But before she could, he pulled her up against his half-naked body with a sexy growl that never failed to turn her on. And as he kissed her passionately, thoughts of anyone but him flew right out of her head.

_____

Paige strolled into Pan de Vida a few minutes after one. She'd gone back and forth all morning, wondering if she should call Tim and cancel, waiting until nearly the last moment to go ahead and meet him. And even then she almost changed her mind after Walter had kissed her and told her to have a good time with her friend.

Spotting Tim as he got to his feet, she hurried over to his table. "Sorry, I'm late," she said as she scooted into the booth. "I, uh, I had trouble getting away," she explained, which wasn't a complete lie.

"Did Walter try to stop you from meeting me?" the ex-SEAL glared angrily.

"No, of course not. I just had, had some last minute paperwork to finish up." This time she not only made up an excuse, she omitted the fact Walter didn't even know who she was lunching with.

"Sorry," he said, with a contrite look on his boyishly handsome face. "You look great. You look happy."

"Thanks, I am happy." She smiled at him. "You look good, too."

A waitress came up to their table then, dropping off glasses of water, a basket of tortilla chips, and a container of salsa. Tim reached for a chip then scooped up some of the salsa.

"So, you and Walter, huh?" he said between bites. "He finally manned up and grew a pair."

"That's not very nice," she scolded. 

"Sorry." He picked up another chip. "It just rankles a bit he won."

"He didn't ‘win' anything," she snapped. Dammit, this had been a bad idea. "I finally stopped lying to myself and he did too. If you're just going to insult him. . ." She gathered up her purse and slid to the end of the bench.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Tim said, grabbing her wrist. A tiny spark of attraction jolted through her. She'd once thought it would be enough, it _had_ been enough for her to sleep with him when they'd been together. But now she'd experienced the passion she shared with Walter, it was like comparing a match to a wildfire. She jerked her hand free.

"Please, don't go," he pleaded. "I'll play nice, okay?"

"Okay." She move back, setting her bag next to her. 

"So, other than you and Walter getting together, what else is new?" he asked. Before she had a chance to answer, the waitress came back and took their orders. Once she was gone, Paige filled him in on everything; Sly losing then winning the alderman position, Cabe and Allie's budding relationship, Toby and Happy's wedding, the plane crash.

"So let me get this straight. You were all stranded on a deserted island in the Pacific for over three weeks?" Tim asked incredulously after their food had arrived. "You had five Professors and no Gilligans. Why did it take so long to be rescued?"

Paige smiled as she remembered how she'd had to explain to Walter about the old TV show and how he'd scoffed at its absurdity. That Tim knew without being prompted. . .

"We had limited resources," she explained. "Plus we'd flown so far off course. . . It was nearly monsoon season. . . We were lucky we were rescued at all." She omitted the fact Walter's brain hadn't been at full capacity because he'd been too enraptured by their new relationship.

"Well, I'm glad you're safe and sound." Tim reached across the table and grasped her hand again. The spark flared again, and she quickly pulled away. 

"Thanks." She checked her watch as the server brought the bill. "I better get back," she said, picking up her purse as Tim got out his wallet. "It was nice seeing you again."

"So this is it?" His voice sounded strained, and he looked so sad, like she was breaking his heart. It was unnerving how much it unnerved her. 

"It has to be," she said. 

"Why? Because Wal. . ." He cut himself off before sighing. "I thought underneath it all we were friends."

"We were," conceded Paige. She didn't want to hurt him, but to keep seeing him, even as friends, would be impossible. "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other again." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut in before he could say a word. "Please, don't ruin it."

"All right," he conceded, sliding out of the booth. After paying the check, she let him escort him out to her car. He waited until she unlocked the door before placing his hand on her face. "Be well, Paige," he said before leaning over and kissing her cheek.

She flinched as his lips touched her skin, dropping her keys. Oh, God, a wave of desire flowed through her, swiftly followed by a tsunami of guilt. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't deny she still found him attractive. But whatever she had felt for him amounted to nothing compared to what she felt for Walter. 

"Goodbye Tim," she managed to say, bending down to snatch up her keys.

"And if you ever change your mind, let me know," he said with a cocky grin. "My number's still the same."

"Goodbye Tim," she repeated, knowing she would never contact him. 

Driving away, she caught a glimpse of the ex-trainee in her rearview mirror. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground as he kicked a piece of gravel. The sight of him looking like a whipped puppy, and the idea she'd been the one doing the whipping. . . A tear trickled from her eye and she determinedly dashed it away. She had finished crying over Tim Armstrong a long time ago.

She strolled into the garage twenty minutes later, her gaze immediately seeking and finding Walter. He rose to his feet and came toward her, a welcoming smile on his handsome face. 

"Hello, love," he said, kissing her cheek. "Did you have a good time with your friend?"

"Yes," she said, surprising herself. It had actually been nice seeing Tim again, if only to close out that chapter of her life. "Yes I did."


	7. Chapter 7

"There are 10 kinds of people in the world, those who know binary and those who don't."

"Oh, Walter, you are so funny." Gloria Svenson giggled as she sat next to the genius, who was typing code into one of the Turing Institute's computers. She then placed her hand on Walter's shoulder, letting it linger before sliding it down his arm.

Paige had to turn her head as another surge of bile rose up inside her. If the blonde bimbo touched Walter one more time. . . She wasn't going to be responsible for her actions. The only reason she hadn't yet punched the other woman in her brilliantly white teeth was because Walter flinched every time she made contact. 

He may have been oblivious to the forensic scientist's blatant flirtation, but Paige sure wasn't. The woman had been batting her eyelashes, laughing over his lame jokes, and fondling him every chance she got.

"Paige. Paige?"

She was shaken from her thoughts by Walter's voice. "What?" she replied a little harsher than she should have.

"I need you to check on Happy and Sylvester," he ordered, not looking up from his keyboard. "Their coms keep cutting out and I need to know how they're progressing."

"Okay." She rose from her chair, glancing over at Walter and Gloria, who had gone back to chattering away in a language filled with math equations, theorems, coding jargon. . .most of which she couldn't comprehend. 

Maybe it would be good to get away from them for awhile, even though leaving them alone together could hardly be a better idea. She should be able to trust him. She _did_ trust him. It was just Walter was a little naive when it came to reading other people and their motives. He always wanted to believe the best of everyone. She'd seen it so many times; Mark Collins, that hacktivist Percy, the daughter of that casino owner, the Central American dictator's daughter, her own mother. . . And Miss Sweden over there wasn't any different.

Another girlish giggle filled her ears, setting Paige's teeth on edge. With an irritated sigh, she spun away and headed toward the elevator.

_____

A persistent beep woke Paige as she rolled over. For a moment she was disoriented, then remembered they'd stayed the night at the garage. Reaching out with her arm, she discovered Walter's side of the bed was empty.

Hearing voices from across the room, she sat up, pushing the hair off her face, and glanced at the alarm clock. 4:18. He was at his computer desk, his back to her, blocking her view of his screen. Sliding out from between the sheets, she rooted around for her slippers, intending to go to the bathroom.

Her urge to pee was instantly replaced by a different urge when she saw Gloria's gleaming white teeth. What the hell? Then she noticed Walter was in his t-shirt and boxers. And. . .Oh, God. . .he appeared to be rubbing himself as he listened to the other woman's scientific babble. 

Was he. . .was he masturbating? Suddenly she didn't want to know. Maybe she was still asleep and having a nightmare. That unrealistic fantasy didn't last long as she once again heard the blonde bitch giggle at something Walter said.

Her stomach churned, bitterness rising in her throat as she turned away, unable to watch any longer. Blinking back tears, she got back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She'd always known she'd never be enough for him. Besides the obvious fact she'd never be smart enough for him, she wasn't blind. Every woman he'd dated before her had been her opposite. Dainty, tiny women who made her feel like an Amazon. It seemed he had a type, and she wasn't it.

Sniffing, she punched her pillow and wiped her eyes. Although she doubted she'd be able to go back to sleep, Paige found herself drifting off. One last thought drifted through her mind - she loved Walter and he loved her. . .but for how long?

_____

Paige's cell rang a little after eleven the next morning as she sat at her desk, filing out forms for the previous day's case. Picking it up, she recognized the number. Tim.

She debated with herself whether she should answer. They were over. Done. Finished. She had moved on and she thought he had too. 

"Hey, Sly look at this." She glanced up to see Walter pointing at something on the chalk board. "Gloria's using quantum counting here instead of Grover's. It's brilliant. I'll have ask her how she thought of that."

Her finger had been hovering over the touch screen, ready to ignore the call. Instead she swiped right, lying to herself she wasn't doing it out of spite. That it must be something important for the ex-trainee to be contacting her. "Hello," she said, trying to keep her inner turmoil out of her voice.

"Oh, hey, Paige," Tim answered cheerfully. "Glad I caught you. I'm going to be in your part of town this afternoon and thought it might be nice to get together for lunch again."

"I don't think that's a good idea." She was pretty certain it was a bad idea, given her current state of mind.

"You don't have a case or anything, do you?"

"No, but. . ."

"It's just lunch. You have to eat sometime," he wheedled.

Paige snuck a peek at Walter, who was showing Sylvester another incomprehensible equation. She heard the words ‘algorithm' and ‘Gloria' and all her feelings of being inadequate and stupid came rushing back. It would be a change of pace to talk to someone ‘normal' for an hour or so.

"Okay," she agreed, hoping she wasn't making a mistake.

"Great," he replied with barely contained enthusiasm, making her think of a tail-wagging puppy. They quickly arranged a time and place to meet. "See you in a couple hours," he said. 

"Yeah, see you then." She ended the call, tossing her cell on her desk. Guilt swept over her, but she promptly squashed it like a bug. It was just lunch with an old coworker. The fact they'd been more at one time didn't mean the friendship had to end. 

A little before one, she left the garage, telling Walter and the others she was running errands. Glimpsing at her driver side mirror, Paige noticed Toby getting into Happy's truck. Wondering for a moment where the shrink was going, she shrugged and drove away.

Half an hour later, she and Tim were sitting in a secluded booth in the back of a Thai restaurant they'd frequented while they were together. As they ate, she told him about how Ralph was doing in school and about some of Scorpion's non-classified cases. He told her about living in Jordan and some of the non-classified aspects of his job. 

"Paige," he said after they'd finished eating. Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand. "I really miss you."

"I miss you too," she said, the firmness of his grip worrying her a little. "I forgot how nice it is to have a normal conversation. When I left today. . ."

"No, I mean I truly regret letting you go." He caressed her fingers, gazing at her with such a sad puppy dog expression. 

"It's too late, Tim," she said, pulling away. "I'm in love with Walter. And I've been in love with him for a long time. I'm sorry." She leaned backed, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you think you can win me back, you're wasting your time. It was never going to work out between us."

Hanging his head, he sighed. "Okay, I know when I'm beat. You can't blame a guy for trying though." He glanced up at her with a smile she noticed didn't reach his eyes.

He walked her out to her car, waiting until she unlocked it before putting his hand on the door to keep her from opening it. "It's just. . .the way we broke up," he began, "being so far apart. . .over the internet. . . Well, it didn't seem real. It still doesn't seem real. It lacked closure, you know?"

"Yeah." She had to agree. Their break up had been so cold and impersonal. Maybe it was why she still responded to him. Her brain hadn't fully grasped it was over and it needed closure to switch off that part of her mind. "I'm glad we've had the chance to talk face to face. I think it will help."

He stepped closer. "How about a kiss?" he asked. "For closure's sake?"

She shook her head. "No," she stated firmly. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"I really could use this, Paige, to help me heal, to help us heal." He was gazing at her so forlornly, her resolve started to slip.

One last kiss goodbye. If that's what it took for their relationship to finally be over and done with. . . 

"Fine," she said, lifting her face towards his. She barely noticed the first brush of his lips, glad that whatever she'd felt during their first lunch had obviously been a fluke. Then his mouth then came down hard on hers, his tongue roughly thrusting its way between her lips. Desire shot through her like a lightening bolt.

Oh, God, she didn't want this, she shouldn't be doing this. But her arms seemed to move on their own, winding their way around Tim's neck. His hands were on her ass, pulling her up against his body. She slid her fingers into his hair. Short prickly stubble greeted her instead of the soft dark curls she'd grown accustomed to feeling. Oh, God, what the hell was she doing? 

Snapping out of her lust-induced trance, she shoved him away with every ounce of her strength. He stumbled backward, a smirk on his blandly handsome face. "You still want me," he declared.

"No, I don't," she said, punctuating her words by wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Obviously Walter must not be doing it for you if you can kiss me like that," he said smugly.

"I'm not discussing Walter or our sex life with you."

"That bad, huh?"

She slapped him, the crack her palm made on his cheek echoing off the wall of the restaurant. "Go to hell, you bastard. And don't ever call me again."

Yanking open her car door, which hit him in the hip she noted with satisfaction, she jumped inside. He had to leap out of the way as she squealed out of the parking lot. Paige was halfway back to the garage before she remember Sylvester's dry cleaning. "Shit," she murmured under her breath as she turned around to go pick it up.

_____

An hour later, she was at her desk, finishing up the paperwork from their latest case. Happy was at her workbench, happily banging on a piece of metal. Sly was working on a speech for the next city alderman meeting. Toby was shooting rubber bands across the room, hitting and missing various items, including his coworkers. His latest target had been Walter's butt when the genius had gotten up to get a cup of coffee.

"Dammit, Toby," he growled. "Quit scattering rubber bands all over the floor and find something productive to do." Reaching down, he rubbed his left thigh as he filled his mug.

"What's the matter with your leg, Mr Grouch?" asked the shrink, hopping to his feet.

"Nothing. I scraped it on my desk last night. It's fine."

"Not if it's bothering you." The doc came around to stand in front of Walter. "It could be infected. Drop your drawers and let me take a look."

"I'm not taking off my pants in front of everyone," Walter snapped indignantly. His cheeks were growing red, reminding her of how modest he was. 

Toby shrugged. "No one cares. Sly and I are guys. Pretty sure Paige has seen what you're packing in your jeans. Heck, you were once married to Happy. It's no big deal."

"It's fine. I'll put some bacitracin on it tonight, okay?."

"Okay. I'll just have Happy's hacksaw sterilized and ready to go for when I need to amputate."

Paige watched as Walter rolled his eyes before sitting back down at his desk. He rubbed his thigh again. The image of him making a similar motion that morning sprang into her head

Oh, God. He hadn't been masturbating while Skyping with Gloria, he'd been soothing his injury. Her stomach lurched as shame swept through her. God, she was such an idiot. Walter would never cheat on her. He was too loyal to those he cared about. Plus he would never intentionally hurt anyone.

Because of her jealous spitefulness, she'd snuck out to have lunch with Tim and had let him manipulate her, had let him play on her sympathy. Well, never again. After today, she didn't plan on ever seeing him again.

If only she could get rid of the guilt eating her up inside for letting him kiss her. . .and for enjoying it.

_____

"Hey."

Paige had seen Walter approach from the corner of her eye. "Hey, yourself," she replied, meeting his gaze for a moment before plunging her hands back into the sink full of soapy water. Lifting out a mug, she began to scrub it. Damn, something about the way he was leaning against the pillar sent shivers down her spine. And the fact he wasn't even aware how sexy he looked drove her even crazier.

"I'm sorry." 

She glanced over at him again, watched as he stared at the floor, his hands in his pockets, covered in what Toby called guilt markers. "For what?" 

"For not realizing my interactions with Glo. . .uh, Ms Svenson were upsetting you." He raised his head. "I'm a clueless bastard."

Well, she had to agree with the clueless part. He certainly hadn't encouraged the woman, although he hadn't exactly fended her off either. She marked that down to his lack of experience with women in general. He probably hadn't known he needed to defend himself against the blonde barracuda. 

And being clueless wasn't a sin. Especially compared to what she had done. "Walter," she began with a sigh. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But you're unhappy." he countered, and she was surprised he'd picked up on it. She'd tried hard to keep her displeasure under wraps. Taking a step toward her, he added, "And it's my fault."

"No, it's mine," she said, closing even more of the gap between them. "I chose to be jealous when it was plain you weren't interested in her. That she was the one who was coming on to you, not the other way around."

"I'll cut off all communication with her," he said, and she could see he was being sincere. But she couldn't let him do that. Unfortunately the woman headed an important institute in a field in which Walter excelled. It was an important contact, one they might have use for in the future.

"No, you shouldn't have to do that." She explained her reasons before placing her hands on his chest and smiling. "Just no more late night/early morning Skype calls, okay?"

"Okay." She watched his throat work, the rhythm of his heart increasing against her palm. He captured her fingers. "You're the love of my life," he said earnestly. "I don't want anyone else."

Tears swelled in her eyes and she bit her lip to keep them from falling. "I love you too, Walter."

Guilt once again filled her as their mouths met. But it was quickly swept away by an explosion of passion as he stroked her tongue with his. 

He was the love of her life too. But she couldn't say the same about not wanting anyone else. She'd obviously had other lovers before him. She just hoped he would be her last.


	8. Chapter 8

"Mmm. . .five more minutes." Paige snuggled up against Walter's warm body, sliding her hands under his t-shirt and caressing his bare skin.

"We're going to be late," he protested as he rolled away from her touch and out of the bed.

"You're the boss," she stated with a laugh. "Whatcha you gonna do? Dock your own pay?"

"No, I'm going to go take a shower." He moved toward the bathroom. "Like you said, I am the boss. I need to set a good example."

"Ugh, you party pooper," she said, sticking out her tongue at him. Walter chuckled as he shut the door. Deciding she may as well get up too, Paige rummaged around for her robe. As she was tying the sash, Walter's phone rang. 

"Can you get that?" he called out. "It might be Cabe."

"Sure thing, babe." She picked up his cell and glanced at the number. Not one she recognized, so not the Homeland agent. Thinking it could be a potential client, she answered it. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Julie from Credit Card Services," stated an overly chirpy recorded voice. "I'm calling to let you know about a special offer. . ."

"Is it Cabe?" Walter's question carried through the door.

"No, just a stupid telemarketer," she said as she disconnected the call. She heard him grunt in reply before water started running in the other room. 

Paige sighed. It probably was just all in her head, but. . . Walter had seemed withdrawn the past week. As if something. . .or someone. . .else occupied his mind. 

He'd quit talking about Gloria Svenson (at least in her hearing), but did that also mean he'd also stopped talking _to_ her? Miss Sweden spoke his language, was nearly as smart as he was. Something Paige knew she could never be. Maybe that was the reason for his detachment lately? He'd found someone more intellectually stimulating and he was growing bored with her? 

And as if mentally distancing himself wasn't alarming enough, he'd been less affectionate as well. Maybe she'd turned him off when she tried to introduce him to bondage. It had been disappointing he wasn't into it. . . Well, not the tying her up part anyway. _He'd_ certainly enjoyed being the one tied to the bedposts. 

But that wasn't what she wanted. She was a strong independent woman but when it came to sex, she liked her partner to take charge. So far in this relationship, she'd been the main initiator of any intimacy. Not that she had any complaints, he was a fast learner, but. . . He still lacked confidence. At least that's what she hoped, and not that he'd grown bored with her in bed as well.

Staring down at the phone in her hand, Paige struggled with her conscience for a moment or two; wanting to respect his privacy, yet also wanting to satisfy her curiosity. The latter finally won out, and she was soon scrolling through his texts. 

There were several exchanges between him and the Swedish scientist, but they were all in computerese, which she barely understood, despite having a son and boyfriend who were both fluent. She was about to concede she was just being paranoid when she opened another thread. 

_Thanks for recommend of Nightwish. Paige and I really enjoyed concert._

She bit her lip. He'd surprised her with tickets to a concert by the Finnish band a couple of weeks earlier. She'd loved their version of Phantom of the Opera. And as a bonus, the keyboardist kind of looked like Johnny Depp. That Miss Sweden had suggested it. . . She knew it was petty, but it totally tarnished the evening for her. 

She then read Gloria's reply. _ur welcom didnt no page was ur gf._

Paige stifled a giggle at the other woman's barely literate text. With a smile, she moved down to Walter's response. Her smug grin disappeared in an instant.

_I don't think of her as a girlfriend._

There was more, but her eyes suddenly grew too blurry to read further. Fumbling to close out the app, she finally shut it down before placing the cell back on the dresser. 

Oh, God. Walter didn't think of her as his girlfriend? She plopped down on the mattress, her legs unable to hold her up. If she wasn't his girlfriend, what the hell was she to him then? Was she just someone he was comfortable having sex with? Was he just using her to be a father to Ralph? 

Paige didn't want to believe either possibility, but. . . But they were both easier to swallow than the idea he was attracted to Miss Sweden for more than her expertise with computers and wanted the other woman to think he was available. Nausea rippled through her. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. _Oh, God. . ._

She realized the water was no longer running in the other room as something wet dripped onto the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she quickly dried her tears.

Walter could never know she'd snooped into his phone. Besides the blatant invasion of privacy, it showed a major lack of trust on her part. No, this was a dirty little secret she had to keep to herself. No matter how much it hurt.

_____

Paige pushed her cart down the cereal aisle, stopping to search for a box of Fruity Moons. The red circle and three underlines made her certain Sylvester would be one unhappy camper if she returned to the garage without them.

Although she was in no hurry to go back. Going shopping today had been an excuse, a valid one, but still a reason to get away for an hour or so. Something definitely was off with Walter. She'd caught him, more than once in the last few days, staring at her with a frown on his face, along a sadness in his eyes which nearly broke her heart. 

Spotting Sly's cereal on the bottom shelf, she bent down to grab a box. She was almost knocked off her feet when her basket was shoved backward, hitting her in the hip.

Once she had regained her balance, she stood up to confront the clumsy idiot who'd rammed into her. "What the. . .?" 

"Oh, dang, I'm sorry. . . Paige!" Tim's beaming face stared back at her.

"Tim," she replied sourly. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." Paige glanced at his cart. Filet mignon, a bottle of wine. . .and the ingredients to make blueberry crumble. She closed her eyes, remembering the first time he'd made the dessert for her. It had also been the first time they'd slept together. She couldn't help but wonder who he was making it for now.

Tim's voice regained her attention. "Hey, I'm really glad I ran into you. Well, not literally. . . Are you okay?" He looked concerned.

She rubbed her hip. "I'll live," she said. "Tim. . ."

"Paige, I want to apologize for my behavior the last time we met." He walked around the side of his cart. "I was an ass."

"Yes, you were," she agreed.

"Let me make it up to you," he suggested. "We could go somewhere, maybe grab a cup of coffee, talk. . ."

"There's nothing left to talk about, Tim." Paige gripped the handle of her basket. "I need to go."

"Please," he said, glancing down at the floor then back up to her face. There were tears gathering in his eyes. He appeared genuinely contrite. "I thought we were friends?"

Oh, God, she didn't want to feel sorry for him but she didn't want to be a bitch either. He was right, they'd always been good friends. Besides, if it was okay for Walter to text Gloria about stuff other than computers, she should be able to go out to coffee with an old friend without it being a big deal. 

"Okay," she said, not quite successfully squashing her guilty feelings. "One coffee. Then I really need to get back."

"Thank you." Tim looked down at his basket, a mischievous grin on his face. "So should we just leave these here or. . .?"

"We shouldn't," she began, grabbing her purse, "but. . ."

With a burst of laughter, they started walking away from their abandoned grocery carts and headed out of the store.

_____

Well, she wasn't laughing anymore.

Paige rested her forehead against the steering wheel of her car as it sat outside the garage. She needed to go inside, put away the containers of yogurt and milk before they spoiled along with the other groceries she'd hastily purchased. Instead she was trying not to be sick again as she relived all the mistakes she'd made that afternoon, starting with. . .

_Mistake #1 - Not demanding Tim take her back to the store the moment he pulled up in front of an apartment complex._

Paige had stared out the window of Tim's car. "This isn't a coffee shop," she'd stated unnecessarily.

"I know," he said. "I share a place here with a couple of co-workers. They're both on duty now. I hope you don't mind."

"Tim. . ." 

He cut in before she could object. "I thought we should talk in private."

"This is private," she had pointed out as they were alone in his car. "Just tell me what you need to say then. . ."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I do, but. . ." But the look on his face, so sad and pathetic. . . . Well, it had played on her sympathy, and she gave in, which became. . .

_Mistake #2 - Allowing him to convince her his roommate's espresso machine made the best coffee he'd ever tasted and she really needed to try it for herself._

"He roasts his own beans, too," Tim had said as he'd opened the door to his apartment. "It's a thousand times better than Starbucks. I can hardly stand to drink anything else."

"Fine," she sighed. 

"It's gonna take a few minutes," he'd said, heading toward the kitchen, "why don't make yourself at home?"

"Okay." She'd taken off her coat, laying it over the back of a chair in the living room before following him. Standing in the archway between the two rooms, she watched as he prepared the coffee. That led to. . .

_Mistake #3 - Asking him what he wanted to talk about so urgently._

"I still love you," Tim said quietly as they had waited for the coffee to brew.

Paige had crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm with Walter now," she'd replied a bit harshly.

"Who are you reminding? Me. . .or yourself?" He pushed away from the counter, taking a step toward her.

"You." His arrogance sparked her anger even further. "I'm in love with Walter, not you. I was never in love with. . . Umph. . ."

He roughly pulled her into his arms and kissed her; a long, hard, possessive kiss. She'd struggled at first, tried to push his tongue out of her mouth, but. . . He knew exactly what buttons to push, stripping away her defenses as easily as her clothing. And then she'd made. . .

_The biggest mistake of her life._

Paige's stomach churned violently as she unsuccessfully tried to block the images. . .the sounds. . .the sensations. . . Being pressed onto the lumpy couch. . . The way he'd pinned her wrists above her head as he'd spread her legs. . . How he'd brought her to an embarrassingly swift orgasm, followed a few seconds by his own. . .

It had all happened so fast and. . .and she'd let it all happen without a word of protest. Oh, God, what had she been thinking. . . Well, obviously she hadn't been thinking at all. When it was all over, she'd pushed him off of her, fleeing into the bathroom where she'd thrown up.

And Tim. . . He'd been all apologies and reassurances, saying he never meant for it to happen and begging her to not let it ruin their friendship. Much to her relief, he'd condomed up, but that had also aroused her suspicions he may have planned the whole thing and she'd fallen willingly into his hands. 

But did it really matter why it happened? It didn't change the outcome. She'd had sex with another man. And not just any man. The one man guaranteed to break Walter's heart all over again. _Oh, God_. . . 

How could she face Walter after what she'd done? He'd be devastated. . .and rightly so. He could never find out. Never. Which meant she'd better come up with a good reason why she'd been gone for. . . She glanced at her watch. . . Oh, crap, over three hours. 

Long lines at the store. That took three hours? She needed something else. An accident. Yes. . . One which happened right in front of her and she couldn't get away. That would work.

Because the whole damn thing had been one colossal accident.

Pulling herself together, she got out of the car and gathered up the groceries. Taking a deep breath, she went inside.

_____

"You're sure you're going to be okay?" Walter asked as he pulled up in front of Paige's apartment complex.

She'd been so grateful of his offer to take her home, and his agreement to pick up Ralph for a "boys' night out." But she'd seen the disappointment in his eyes when she'd requested he drop off her son instead of staying the night.

But she just couldn't be with him right now. Not only because her guilt was eating her up inside, but because Tim had left behind a couple of love bites, one on each breast. She'd forgotten how he liked to leave big hickeys on her neck and chest, as if he was claiming her as his property. Walter would know right away something was wrong since he'd never marked her once in the time they'd been together. She'd have to wait until they faded before she could let him see her naked again.

Taking a breath, she tried to plaster a convincing smile on her face. "I just need to take a nap," she replied. "You and Ralph have fun, okay?"

He stared disconcertingly at her. "Okay," he said. Reaching across the console, he wrapped his arms around her as best he could inside the confines of the car and kissed her softly. "I hope you feel better," he said as he let her go. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."

"I will," she said, the lie sticking in her throat. "I just need a nap." 

"I love you," he declared hoarsely.

"Love you, too." Her eyes grew blurry as she snatched up her purse and exited the car. Looking over her shoulder as she entered the building, she saw he was still watching her, a frown once again marring his handsome face. Shame filled her as she hurried inside, barely making it her bathroom before she threw up again.

When she was done, Paige headed to the kitchen, snagging a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Going back into the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes as the bathtub filled. After dumping a healthy dose of bubble bath into the water, she slipped into it, bring the wine with her.

She scrubbed herself furiously, even though she knew it was a futile gesture. No amount of scouring would wash away what she'd done. And as she took a long swig of the wine, she knew no amount of alcohol would obliterate it either. But she was still going to try.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter from Paige's POV. After this point, the storylines will converge. Also. . .
> 
>  **Warning! TMI alert**. I tried to tame it down as much as I could, I really did, but. . . Unfortunately some of it was essential to the story. I'm really, really, really, really, really sorry. It might be better if you read this on an empty stomach.

The phone rang as Paige sat at her desk going over Scorpion's monthly budget. Making a tut of displeasure at being interrupted, she picked up the receiver.

"Scorpion, how may I. . .?"

"Paige?"

_Son of a bitch_. She slammed the phone back down. _Tim_. He'd tried to call her on her cell numerous times in the past two days until she'd finally had to block him. 

The phone rang again. She let it ring until she saw Walter reach for the hand set on his desk. Panic rising within her, she snatch up hers before he could answer it. 

"Paige?"

"Stop calling me," she hissed.

"Please, don't hang up," he pleaded. "Paige, I'm so sorry. I want to apologize. . ."

"Okay, you just did. Now stop bothering me."

"I want you to forgive me."

"Goodbye, Tim." She hung up. Leaning back in her chair, she let out an exhausted breath. She glanced up to see Walter staring at her. Oh, God, she needed to pull herself together before he suspected something. She flashed him what was hopefully a reassuring smile then got back to work.

The phone rang a third time.

This time she didn't wait, grabbing the receiver before anyone else could even react. "Paige, please," Tim begged.

"Do I need to get a restraining order?" she threatened, knowing she would never go through with it. She wasn't sure if they were a matter of public record and she couldn't risk anyone finding out.

"No," he said, sounding dejected. "I'm sorry. I just really need to see you again. I need to know you've forgiven me."

Had she forgiven him? She shouldn't, he'd practically forced himself on her. But she could have stopped him. All she'd had to do was open her mouth and tell him no, and he would have let her go. He'd done it before when sex between them had gotten a little out of hand. She did blame him for what happened, but not any more than she blamed herself. 

"Dammit, Tim, this has to stop." 

"We need to do this face to face. Meet me for lunch," he said. "One last time, then I'm gone from your life for good. I promise."

She sighed in exasperation, not certain if she should believe him or not. But if he actually kept his word this time, it would be finished between them, and she could get on with her life with Walter.

"Okay," she said. "But this has to be the last time. Okay?"

"Yes. Thank you." He named a restaurant she'd never been to before and set a time. Relieved and hopeful, she hung the receiver back on the hook.

"Is everything all right?" Walter's voice nearly caused her to fall out of her chair. Oh, God, how long had he been standing there in front of her desk? 

"Yeah, just fine," she lied, darting a glance up at him.

"You seemed upset when you were on the phone." His expression was one of concern, not anger. He must not have overheard much, if any, of her conversation.

"Yeah, just haggling over an expense with a pencil pusher at Homeland," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "They don't want to pay for the shoes Toby bought after he ruined his old pair chasing those drug smugglers." She wasn't lying about that, only omitting the fact the discussion had occurred an hour earlier. 

"Okay, then," Walter started to walk away then stopped. "Wanna go out to lunch together? It's been awhile since we've done that."

Oh, crap. He would have to ask her, today of all days. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she said with a smile she wasn't feeling. "I have to. . . I have a pedicure appointment at one. Sorry."

"Oh, okay." She bit her lip as his whole body sagged with disappointment. "Maybe another time."

"Definitely." She made a show of straightening out the papers on her desk. He got the hint, continuing on to his work station. 

The rest of the morning seemed to drag on forever. She kept telling herself it was because she was anxious to finally be rid of the ex-trainee ex-boyfriend. And not because she was anticipating anything. The weird sensations in her lower belly were hunger pains. Gas. Certainly not anything of an erotic nature. 

She located the restaurant easily enough. It was more like a café attached to a small two-story motel. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the glass door, immediately spotting Tim sitting in a corner booth. She headed straight toward him, eager to get this meeting over and done with so she'd never had to deal with him again.

Paige stopped dead in her tracks as Tim lifted his right hand. A pair of hand cuffs dangled off his index finger. Raising his left hand, she saw he was holding a room key for the motel next door. He was grinning at her, with the expression of a cat who'd just ate the canary. 

_Turn around. Turn around and march right back out the door_. Her feet refused to obey her though, her whole body was frozen with indecision. Tim began twirling the cuffs, the cocksure attitude still written all over his face. It was obvious what he was offering. And she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't want it.

Tossing glances over both shoulders, she hoped no one else saw the taunting display. "Stop it," she scolded, snatching the spinning restraints from his finger. 

Her head, heart, and body were engaged in a heated battle, each one shouting over the others, all determined to get their way. Common sense was winning out and she was about to tell him to go to hell. Then he looked at her with his "aw, shucks" smile and all her resistance melted. 

"Yes?" he asked hopefully.

"Come on," she said, dragging him out of the café.

_____

The next three weeks were one huge chaotic blur. She was hooking up with Tim two or three times a week; sometimes at random motels, sometimes at his apartment. They'd picked up where they'd left off, engaging in the rough bondage play they'd both enjoyed.

And at the same time, she was still sleeping with Walter. Not only so he wouldn't suspect anything, but because she loved being in his arms, the tender way he worshiped her when they were intimate. 

The deceit, the lies, the sordidness of it all, were wearing her down though. When she was with Tim, she felt guilty about what she was doing to Walter. When she was with Walter, she felt guilty about what she was doing with Tim. She'd had to fake orgasms with both men. Tim never noticed. She wasn't so sure about Walter. 

She needed to end it with Tim. But she kept caving in to his emotional blackmail, concerned it would turn into actual blackmail if she tried to walk away. 

He must have sensed her second thoughts, becoming rougher with her the last couple of times they'd been together. He'd left a bruise on her arm which had been too big to hide. She'd had to lie to Walter about it when he'd asked, telling him she'd hit it against a door. She wasn't sure if the genius had believed her excuse, but he didn't question her any more about it.

Sitting at her desk, her fingers massaging her temples, her inner turmoil causing one hell of a headache. Walter, Sly, and Happy were out on a job installing a computer mainframe. Her presence as nerd wrangler hadn't been necessary.

She was using the peace and quiet to go over the plan she's already set in motion for the next day. The plan she needed to stop stressing over whether it would work or not. It _had_ to work. She couldn't go on like this much longer.

"Headache?" Toby's voice startled her. Oh, crap, she forgot the shrink had also stayed behind since his services also were not required.

"Yeah, just a little one," she lied, something she was doing way too much of lately.

"Oh, so not the six foot tall, 160 pound variety?" Toby sat his butt on the corner of her desk as he smirked.

"What? Do you mean Walter?" She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm just tired."

The psychiatrist scrutinized her from head to toe. "Anemic? PMS? Pregnant? 197 keeping you up all night with his kinky sexual demands?" She shook her head at the first two, before adding an indignant "No!" to the last two.

"It's nothing. I just need another cup of coffee." She stood up, grabbing her empty mug. Dammit, he was getting uncomfortably close to the truth. 

"Hey, I'm the doctor here. No self-diagnosing in my presence, if you please." He reached out and touched her arm. "No, really, if something's wrong, you can tell me," he said in a serious tone. 

"I know." She lowered her defenses a little. "It's just a lot sometimes, being a mom, and having a pretty stressful job, being in a new relationship. . . "

"It all catches up to you and knocks you on your ass." She had to hold back a giggle as the shrink did his best wise nod impression. Then his eyes grew wide. "Hey, you should try aromatherapy."

"Aromatherapy? Isn't that New Age holistic bull poop you're always ranting about?"

"No. Okay, yes. But my, uh . . Someone suggested I try it before I poo-pooed it." He glanced away for a moment before continuing. "It does help with my. . . Uh, tension. You know Happy and I are attempting to make a baby Quintus," he blurted out as if he were trying to change the subject.

"No, but that's great," she said, going along with the new topic. "Let me know when I can throw the baby shower."

"Thanks." Sliding his butt off her desk, he adjusted his hat. "You should try lavender," he said.

"Lavender? What. . .?"

"The aromatherapy. Chamomile and Vanilla are good stress reducers too. But lavender seems to help me the most."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." She took a step toward the kitchen.

"And Paige?" She spun back around to face him.

"If you ever need someone to talk to. . ."

"I know, Toby. Thanks."

Paige waited until he was securely seated back at his desk before she turned around to go get a refill. She may not have a PhD in psychiatry, but she was still pretty sure the person in the room who did also had a secret he was keeping. Whether or not it was as horrible as hers. . . Time would only tell.

_____

By two forty-five the next afternoon, Paige was a bundle of nerves. On very shaky legs, she walked over to Walter's desk, where he seemed to lost in his own little world. And not a happy one if the frown on his face was any indication.

She had to call his name twice before he dropped his pen and glanced up at her. "Still working on your puzzle?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied after a long minute. "You're leaving?" He got to his feet, coming around the side of his desk.

"Yeah." Sliding her hands up his chest to his neck, she breathed him in, loving how he smelled, how he felt against her, loving everything about him. Memories being in his arms the night before crowded her mind, when he'd made mad, passionate love to her. She hadn't needed to fake it either time.

Tangling her fingers into his curls, she said, "I'll see you later at Kovelsky's." He repeated the time and place back to her. "You were listening. Good boy." She laughed as she kissed his cheek.

"I love you." The seriousness of his voice scared her a little. As far as he knew, she was going to a mother son event at Ralph's school. She'd needed a new excuse, plus the extra time in case Tim became unreasonable. "I, uh,. . ."

"I love you, too." she said before pressing her lips to his for a brief moment. "I gotta go or I'll be late. Bye." She started to turn away.

"Goodbye." The way he said it. . . It sounded so final, as if he was telling her goodbye for the last time. Her stomach lurching, it took all her will to walk away. 

_Don't look over your shoulder_. She did anyway. The forlorn look on Walter's face nearly broke her heart. Guilt roiled inside her as she jerked her head around, not stopping until she'd left the building and got into her car.

_____

Taking a deep breath, Paige raised her hand to knock on the door of room 105 at the Motel 6 in Arcadia. Across the street was the Santa Anita race course. She wondered for a second why Tim would pick a place so close to a famous landmark. Then the door opened, Tim grinning at her on the other side.

"Hey, Hot Mama," he said as she stepped up into his arms. Meaning to give him a quick peck on the mouth, he thrust his tongue between her lips, turning it into so much more. Grabbing her ass with both hands, he dragged her into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them. 

He was already shirtless as he began to undo his belt. With an inward sigh, she began to unbutton her blouse. 

She'd stripped down to her underwear when the wail of a siren outside drew closer. Curious, she went over to the window and peeked out the curtains. An ambulance had stopped on the other side of the parking lot. 

"What's going on?" Tim asked as he came up behind her.

"There's an ambulance outside."

"Huh." He pulled away from her, going over to stand next to the bed. "Come here," he said.

"But what if someone's hurt?" she asked, wondering why she never realized before how callous he was.

"I doubt it's any one we know." He shrugged before repeating, "Come here." 

Feeling sick to her stomach, she did as he instructed.

_____

Nearly two hours later, they were side by side on their backs, both panting heavily. As she caught her breath, Paige prepared to launch the next step of her plan to end this ill-advised affair.

Her phone rang again. It had rung twice already but she'd had to ignore it both times, even after pleading with Tim it could be Ralph. Moving like an old woman, she rolled over and padded over to her purse. "It's Cabe," she said, seeing the other two calls were from him as well. "Sorry, Cabe. . ." she began as she answered.

"Where the hell are you?" the agent growled in her ear.

It must be an important case if he was this upset with her. "At Ralph's school. I told Walter. . ."

"Walter's in the hospital. They think he had a heart attack." 

"Oh, God." She had to tighten her grip on her phone as her legs trembled. Stumbling over to the bed, she plopped down on the mattress. 

Tim sat up, clamping his hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked loudly.

"Shh. . ." She slapped his hand away. "Cabe, what hospital?"

"Methodist Hospital in Arcadia," the older man snapped out. "And oh, by the way. . ." he added sarcastically, "don't worry about Ralph. Happy picked him up from school." With that, the Homeland agent severed the connection.

Paige stared unseeingly at her cell. _Oh, God. Walter knew_. And from the venom in Cabe's voice, the rest of the team did as well. And. . . _Oh, God_. . . Had the ambulance outside the motel earlier been there for Walter? 

"What's wrong," Tim asked again. "You guys got a case?"

"No," she replied, tears sliding down her face, her phone slipping from her hand. "Oh, God, what have I done?" 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the storylines have re-converged and we're back to where we left off after Chapter 5. I wrote most of the dialogue for this chapter almost a year ago last May, just waiting for the rest of the story to catch up. 
> 
> I'm going to miss this show so much.

Cabe hated hospital waiting rooms. He'd spent far more than his fair share of time in them. No two had ever been the same; different chairs, different carpeting, different artwork hanging on the walls. But the atmosphere was always the same; a mixture of hope, anxiety, and sorrow. 

He leaned up against the far wall, a cold cup of stale coffee in one hand. In the opposite corner, Sylvester and Ralph were sitting in a couple of blue cushioned chairs playing video games on their tablets. The boy was swinging his legs, scuffing his shoes against the light brown carpet, causing sparks of static electricity. A few months ago, his feet wouldn't have reached the floor. A few years ago, Cabe wouldn't have known what produced the tiny arcs of light, not until it had been explained to him by. . .

Taking a deep breath, he glanced over to where Allie calmly sat on one of the couches, flipping through a ladies' magazine. Under her unruffled exterior, Cabe knew she was as worried as he was. She knew how he felt about these kids. Had become something of a surrogate mother to them, even though she wasn't much older than they were. She caught him looking at her, and flashed him an uneasy smile before returning to her magazine.

His gaze moved to the other occupant of the room. The mechanic was pacing. Her face was grim, her arms tightly folded against her stomach as if she would fall apart if she relaxed them. Every so often, their eyes would meet and she'd swiftly turn away. But not before he saw the dread in hers which matched his own. 

Hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway and Toby burst into the room, holding onto his hat as he came to a halt. "What's. . ."

He never got a chance to finish his question before his wife came up and punched him in the gut. "Where the hell have you been?" she hissed through gritted teeth. 

Taking several minutes to recover, the shrink replied, "I had a dentist appoint. . ." Cabe winced in sympathy when Happy socked her husband again.

"Cut the crap, Doc," she snarled. "You haven't been to the dentist since before we got married."

"You checked up on me?" he asked, a slightly incredulous and hysterical edge to his voice. 

"Damn right I did." She glared at him. "Where the hell have you been going to instead of all these nonexistent appointments?" She raised her clenched hand. "Because if you've been gambling, I swear to God, I'm marching right down to the courthouse and filing for a divorce."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down." The psychiatrist took a step back, holding out his hands. "First things first," he said. "What's wrong with Walter?"

Cabe cleared his throat. "Something with his heart," he answered. "That's all they'll tell us." He pushed away from the wall and moved to the center of the room. "They were stabilizing him when Allie and I got here. Haven't heard anything else since."

"His heart?" Toby sounded stunned. "He's only 35, and in reasonably good shape, no immediate family history of heart disease." He glanced around the room. "And what the hell was he doing here in Arcadia?" He grinned stupidly at Happy. "Maybe he's the one who's been gambling? Santa Anita is just up the street."

She threw a fist at him, smacking his outstretched hand. "You'd know, wouldn't you, you jackass."

"I swear on a stack of motorcycle maintenance manuals I have not gambled since I promised you I'd stop. Here. . ." He whipped his wallet from his jeans and handed it to her before turning out his jacket and pants pockets. "See, no betting slips, no IOU's, not even a poker chip." Then he took off his hat, holding it out to her. "You can burn this if I'm not telling the truth."

The mechanic stared at the wallet then at his fedora. "Then where the hell have you been sneaking off to? And don't tell me to see another woman," she growled, "because I'd never believe that shit in a million years."

Toby bowed his head. "I've been going to Gamblers Anonymous meetings."

" _What?_ " Cabe stepped toward Happy, sure he was going to have to keep her from tearing the doc limb from limb. "You son of a bitch," she muttered, obviously restraining herself from doing just that. "Why all the sneaking around? Why all the lies? Why didn't you just fucking tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to admit I was having a problem dealing with my problem." His gaze still focused on the floor, he added, "I didn't think it would be so tough. I'm a world class behaviorist, I should have been able to control my impulses. . . But the temptation. . . the urge. . . You don't know how hard I fought not to succumb. . . I finally had to swallow my pride and get outside help."

Toby put his hands on his wife's shoulders, and Cabe considered it a good sign she allowed them to rest there. "I am an giant idiot," he confessed. "And yes, I should have told you. But, you know. . . Giant idiot." He smiled dopily as he placed his hat back on his head.

"Yes you are," she said, trying to repress a smile of her own. But before they could do or say anything more, Paige hurried through the entryway. 

"Is Walter okay?" she gasped. Her hair was a tangled mess, her lips bruised and swollen. Her blouse was unevenly buttoned, exposing the fact her neck and chest were covered with fresh hickeys. Cabe, even though only recently re-introduced to sex, could smell its scent on her from where he was standing five feet away. And if her appearance wasn't a dead giveaway, he'd heard Tim's voice in the background when he contacted her earlier. It didn't take a genius to figure what she'd been doing with the ex-SEAL.

"What happened?" she asked, dropping her purse into the nearest chair. "He was fine when I left for the . . ." Her voice trailed off as she glanced around at the others in the room. "What. . .?"

"Like you don't know," snapped Happy. She grabbed her husband, dragging him across the room before whispering (which Cabe thought sounded like angry bees) into his ear.

Paige took a tentative step toward her son. "Ralph, are you all right?"

He didn't look up from his game. "Like you care," he sneered as only a teenager could.

"Ralph!"

"I'm just stating facts."

"Of course, I care about you. You're my son. I love you." She stared at all of them one by one. "Why would you think I. . ."

The boy turned off his tablet and lifted his eyes to glare at her. "Like you care about Walter?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, sounding totally bewildered.

"Leave the kid alone," Cabe growled. "Maybe it would be better if you just left." He was worried she would insist on seeing Walter. And what the others (okay, mainly Happy) would do to her if she tried.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched as her knees buckled and she collapsed into the nearest chair. "Oh, God," she sobbed, burying her face into her hands.

"Sylvester Dodd?" A nurse came through the ICU doors carrying a clipboard.

"That's me," Sly said as he got to his feet.

"You can go back and see Mr O'Brien now," she announced before she turned to go back into the ICU.

"Wait." Cabe called out as Allie came up to stand beside him. "How is he?"

"It's not for me to say," the nurse replied. "But he's going to undergo a few more tests."

Happy strolled up to the woman, her hands in fists. Thinking he might have to intervene again, Cabe inched nearer to the mechanic. "When can the rest of us see him?"

The nurse shook her head. "I don't know. Mr O'Brien specifically asked that only Mr Dodd be allowed to visit him." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cabe saw Ralph tug on Sylvester's shirt sleeve. "Can I come with you? He must not realize I'm here."

"It's okay with me." The human calculator glanced at the nurse.

The woman sighed. "He'll have to wait outside until you're done," she said. "Only one visitor at a time."

Cabe watched as the two younger geniuses disappeared behind the fire doors.

"Why doesn't he want to see the rest of us?" Happy asked, her eyes suspiciously damp. 

"I imagine he has his reasons." His gaze slid over at Paige, tears streaking down her pale face.

The mechanic followed his eyes, glaring at the other woman. "I need some fresh air. Something smells really fishy in here."

She stalked off down the hallway. "I do, too. Need air," Toby clarified before taking off after his wife.

Cabe looked over at Allie. "I need more coffee," he announced, indicating the cup he still held. 

"I'll come with," she said, grasping his free hand and giving it a squeeze. She was a good woman, his Allie. 

As they headed toward the cafeteria, Cabe tossed a glance over his shoulder. Paige sat all alone in the waiting room, her shoulders slumped, her face red with shame, her eyes filled with despair. He sincerely doubted she had a spark of hope left inside her.

______

Walter woke up stage by stage. First his hearing, the sound of beeps and hums filling his ears. His sense of smell kicked in next, a disinfectant, medicinal odor tweaking his nose when he inhaled. He became aware he was in a bed, not flat on his back, but inclined at a 25 degree angle. Sheets and blankets covered him below the waist and he was wearing some kind of thin woven garment over the top half of his body.

He tested his fingers and toes, then his arms and legs. Everything seemed to be in good working order. No breaks or sprains. His head hurt, not an unusual situation for him. He'd suffered too many head injuries over the past four years for it not to ache now and again. 

Finally, he opened his eyes, confirming his conclusion. He was in a medical facility, hooked up to various monitors and IV bags. Groping around the bed, he found the call button and pushed it. 

It could have been a few minutes or an hour before someone answered his summons. Time seemed to have lost all meaning. A woman in navy blue scrubs with a lighter blue cap covering her hair entered the room.

"Mr O'Brien, I see you're awake now." He would have rolled his eyes at the obvious statement if he didn't think it would nearly kill him to do so.

His throat felt raw as he swallowed, his voice rough as he asked, "What happened? Why am I here?" Taking another breath, he added, "and where is here?"

"You're at Methodist Hospital. In Arcadia. You passed out in a motel parking lot a few blocks from here," the nurse informed him as she started to chart his vital signs

It all came rushing back to him then. _Paige_. _Tim_. The two of them together. . . _Kissing_. . .

Pain radiated from the center of his chest, his vision blurring as he remembered her betrayal. A betrayal so deep it literally caused his heart to skip a beat. A alarm emitted from one of the monitors as it picked up his agitation.

"Relax," the woman said. "Deep breaths. You're fine. You're going to be okay."

He wanted to scream at her he would never be ‘fine' again. Never be ‘okay' again. But it wouldn't be fair. She was only trying to help him. None of it was her fault. Following her instructions and mentally reciting the Fibonacci sequence, he managed to calm down enough to silence the warning bells.

"I'll let the doctor know you're awake," the nurse said once she was satisfied his numbers had stabilized. 

He barely noted her departure. His brain, his damn eidetic memory, kept winding and rewinding the scene he'd witnessed. Their mouths meeting. . . The interloper's hands on her. . . Beeps started increasing as it grew harder to breathe. Blinking, he pushed the disturbing images from his head before he set off the alarm again. 

His doctor appeared about fifteen minutes later. "You experienced an arrhythmia, Mr O'Brien," she said, flipping through his chart. "Not typical of someone your age, but not unheard of. We need to run a few more tests to make sure your heart hasn't suffered any permanent damage."

Oh, his heart was permanently damaged, all right. Just not the kind of damage which would show up on any medical test.

A different nurse entered the room just as the doctor was leaving. "You have several visitors waiting to see you," the woman said. "They're all claiming to be family. . ."

"I don't want to see anyone." 

"Okay." She turned to leave. 

He couldn't face them, couldn't stand to see at the pity in their eyes. Couldn't let them see him so shattered. His pride wouldn't allow. . .

Damn his pride. It would be selfish to not let them see him. They all had to be concerned about him, whether or not they knew the whole story. And Sly was probably worrying himself sick. The younger genius was the closest thing he had to official family here in California. 

"Wait," he said, stopping the nurse in her tracks. "I want to see my brother. Sylvester Dodd. Just him."

"Okay, I'll let him know." 

As she left the room, Walter closed his eyes, hoping he'd made the right decision.

_____

Walter was right about one thing. The big guy was on the verge of tears as he entered the room several minutes later.

"I'm going to be fine, Sly," he tried to reassure the other man. 

"God, Walter, you scared the. . .stuff. . .out of us." Sylvester patted his hand on Walter's before quickly pulling it away.

The corners of his mouth lifted at the human calculator's reluctance to swear. He could see Sly was upset about something else though, something more than just his health. "What's wrong?"

"Paige is here. And everyone is mad at her, although I don't know why."

Walter's shoulders slumped. So much for the hope the others didn't know. Although why he thought he could keep it a secret from a group of nosey geniuses. . .

"And, uh, Ralph really wants to see you." Sylvester winced. "I hope it's okay. . . You did say just me, but. . ."

The realization this would probably be the last time he'd see the boy he thought of as his son made his chest tighten. His heart monitor started beeping faster again and he sucked in a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"It's all right, Sly," he conceded. "Send him in." 

He needed to say goodbye. Not only for Ralph's sake. But for his own.


	11. Chapter 11

Ralph must have been waiting out in the hall. It seemed like a only few seconds had passed before the boy entered the room.

"I was afraid you were going to die," he said as he cautiously approached Walter's bed.

"I'll be okay," he said, hoping to reassure himself as much as Ralph. "I can leave as soon as they run some more tests."

The boy genius reached out for Walter's hand, which he took. To think just a few years earlier, such contact would have been unbearable, hard for him to process. Now. . . He didn't know how he was going to do without it. "What happened?" Ralph asked, breaking through his gloomy thoughts.

Walter pressed his lips together as he inhaled through his nose. Was Ralph asking about his medical condition? Or what caused it? He decided to answer the former. "I had an arrhythmia."

The youngster smiled weakly. "That's what you used to call my mom because she made your. . ."

". . .heart skip a beat." Walter finished the sentence when it became apparent the words were stuck in the boy's throat. The absurdity was not lost on him.

"You. . .You can't be with us anymore, can you?" asked Ralph, although it was more of a statement than a question.

He hadn't given much thought as to what the future held. He was still reeling from the turmoil of the whole situation. But the boy genius was correct. He couldn't be with them. . .with her. The images of her kissing the interloper, images of them together. . . His stomach churned as he reached the same conclusion Ralph had.

"No. I'm sorry, Ralph." 

"She lied to you, didn't she?" Without waiting for an answer, the boy went on. "She lied to me too. She said she was going somewhere with you this afternoon and I had to stay with the sitter instead of hanging out at the garage." Ralph sighed wearily. "And just now, when I walked past her. . . I smelled Tim's cologne. I remembered it because I always thought it smelled like shit. She was with him, wasn't she?"

"Yes." Walter let the language slide, sickened she would so blatantly deceive her own son. It was like she almost wanted to get caught. Maybe she had. Maybe she'd grown tired of all the sneaking around and once again wanted to flaunt her relationship with the interloper in his face. "I'm sorry, buddy." 

"Me, too," said Ralph. "I was hoping you could be. . ." The boy barely choked out the rest of his sentence, ". . .be my dad for real." 

Pressing his lips together and his eyes closed, Walter struggled and failed to fight back his own tears. He leaned over the side of the bed as best he could and opened his arms. Ralph fell into them, wrapping his arms around Walter's neck. The boy's tears dampened the shoulder of his hospital gown as his own streamed down his face. 

He kept repeating "I'm sorry," although they both knew he wasn't the one to blame. Finally, Ralph stepped back, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. 

"Ralph, listen. . ." A lump formed in Walter's throat. "I'll always love you. . .and your mom. Okay? I just can't. . .I just can't be with her right now. Maybe ever." He lifted his eyes to meet Ralph's. "Maybe someday," he began, hoping what he was about to say would come true, "when you're a little older. . . We can. . .we can reconnect?"

The youngster nodded. "I'd like that."

"Go with Sylvester," he instructed as the boy swiped at his nose. "Have him take you somewhere away from the garage for the rest of the night, okay?"

"Okay. Walter. . ." Ralph's lip was quivering and his eyes were shimmering.

Walter took a deep breath. "Ralph, you are my son. Maybe not biologically. But here," he said as he placed his hand over his heart, "where it counts. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't." Ralph put his hand over his own heart. "I love you, too, Walter." 

"Tell Sly to come back in."

"Okay." Ralph hugged Walter again. He whispered, "I'm sorry" against Walter's cheek then turned on his heel and pushed his way through the door. 

Sylvester re-entered the room several minutes later. Walter had barely composed himself, knew traces of tears still remained on his face, but he didn't care. "I've already talked to Ralph," he began, explaining his desire to keep the boy away from the garage. Sly readily agreed.

"Tell Cabe I'd appreciate him sticking around. I'm going to need a ride back home later," he said briskly, watching the other man's eyes well up. "Tell everyone else I'm going to be fine and they don't need to stay."

"Okay, Walter." The big guy came in for a hug. Walter froze at first, trying to keep his emotions in check but failing, as something inside him broke and he was soon blubbering as hard as Sly was.

"I'm going to be okay, Sylvester," he said as the other man pulled back, both of them wiping their faces.

"Walter, I'm. . .." The human calculator was prevented from saying anything further by the arrival of the nurse. Which was just as well. Walter didn't think he could handle another apology.

"We're ready to run one of the tests, Mr O'Brien," she announced. "Your visitors will need to come back later."

"I was leaving anyway," said Sly. He flashed a thumbs up at Walter, a cheery fake smile on his face. "Hope you ace your test, brother."

"Thanks. . .brother."

Walter watched as Sylvester left the room, ignoring the questioning look of the nurse.

_____

"I strongly advise against this, Mr O'Brien."

Walter's doctor stood in front of him with her arms crossed, holding his chart in one hand. He was tying his shoelace, the last step of getting dressed and leaving.

"You need to stay overnight for observation," the doctor declared.

"I'm tired of being observed," he countered, rising up from his chair. "Your tests found nothing wrong and I just want to go home."

"That we found nothing wrong is exactly why you need to stay." She tapped the clipboard. "We don't know why you suffered an arrhythmia. What if you have another one?"

"Then I have another one," he said. "One of my friends is a Harvard trained physician. He can keep an eye on me." He didn't tell her he was going to kick everyone out of the garage as soon as he got back. He was in no mood to deal with either their sympathy or their curiosity.

"You are one pig-headed man, Mr O'Brien." The doctor gestured to a nearby nurse. "Let him sign himself out. Make sure he knows the consequences of his reckless decision."

Walter signed everything stuck in front of him before submitting to an orderly wheeling him out to the waiting room. Cabe was the only one left, sitting in a chair, reading an outdated sports magazine, and drinking what was probably his tenth cup of coffee.

"Hey, son," he said, tossing the magazine aside as he got to his feet. "Everything all right?"

The level of concern in the agent's voice surprised Walter and he hoped the older man wouldn't try to hug him too. They'd whip him back into a hospital bed before he could protest.

"I'm fine," he replied for what felt like the hundredth time. "There isn't any permanent damage. My heart is fine." Except for the fact it had been shattered into a billion little pieces.

The ride back in Happy's truck was silent after Cabe had explained in minute detail why they were in the mechanic's vehicle. Evidently a great deal of car swapping had taken place after Walter had left the garage. After the agent had informed him someone had retrieved his Malibu, the older man seemed to run out of conversation. Or so Walter thought.

"How bad is it?" Cabe asked quietly, giving him a quick worried glance.

Walter sighed. He already explained. . . "They didn't find anything wrong with my heart, Cabe," he replied wearily.

"That's not what I mean." 

Closing his eyes, Walter realized he meant the situation between him and Paige. "It's over," he said, looking out the side window. 

The agent nodded. "I can't blame you, son. What she did. . ."

The image of her kissing _him_ in the motel doorway popped into his head. He reopened his eyes, the picture disappearing as oncoming headlights blinded him.

"She. . . I. . . What she did. . . I just can't. . ." His words stuck in his throat, the sting of his tears burning his cheeks.

Cabe patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's going to be tough for awhile. . ." He broke off with a deep sigh of his own. "When we get back. . . If she's there. . . I'll send her on her way if. . ."

"No," Walter replied. "I need to talk to her. I need. . . I just need to."

He felt Cabe scrutinize him, knew the older man was pitying him, comparing his situation to losing his wife, Rebecca, after their daughter had died. Probably thinking he was a fool for wanting to see Paige one last time. 

"Okay," the agent finally said. 

They pulled up in front of the garage fifteen minutes later. Cabe's SUV, Allie's sedan, Walter's car, and Paige's bright red Malibu were all parked in the alleyway. 

As soon as they exited Happy's pickup, they could hear loud voices coming from inside. Cabe pushed his way through the door, leaving Walter to trail behind him.

"Why can't you get it through your empty skull you shouldn't be here?" shouted Happy. "If Walter doesn't kick your ass to the curb, I'm sure as fuck going to."

"Now, sweetheart," Toby said, holding out his hands like he was trying to calm a rabid dog. "Let her collect her stuff and go." 

"Fine." Happy marched over to her workstation and snagged a cardboard box. "Fill it and get out," she ordered as she slapped it down in front of Paige. "I want you gone before Walter gets here."

"Shit, too late," the shrink mumbled, taking a step back as he noticed the other two men. 

Walter locked eyes with Paige as she stood up from where she'd been sitting behind her desk. She was wearing a green turtle neck instead of the white blouse she had on earlier, and had exchanged her skirt for a pair of jeans. She stared back at him, her expression making him think of a cornered animal, wary and scared. Breaking his gaze, a swift scan of the area told him Sylvester and Ralph were thankfully nowhere in sight. Allie sat on the couch, trying to look innocuous.

"All right, listen up," barked Cabe. "You two, Mr and Mrs Curtis. Quinn-Curtis," he added after the mechanic shot him a dirty look. "You're going out to dinner with Allie and me." He looked over at Allie. "I guess I should ask you. . ."

"No, it's fine," she said, rising from the sofa. "We'd only be in the way here."

"But. . ." Toby started to protest but his wife slugged his upper arm. "Sounds like fun," Happy said in what Walter was sure a sarcastic tone.

"Sounds like a bad idea," her husband contradicted, glancing from Walter to Paige. "We can't just. . ."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Doc," Cabe growled. 

"I'm fine," Walter said. . .again.

"It's not you I'm worried about," said the behaviorist, tipping his head toward the liaison.

Walter bit off a mirthless laugh. "Don't worry. I'm not going to touch her." He raked a shaky hand through his hair, hoping he could keep that promise. "And uh, since you all don't like me making unilateral decisions concerning the company I founded," he began, recalling the last time he'd done so and how painful it had been, although it was nothing equal to what he was feeling now. "I want to terminate her employment with Scorpion, effective immediately. Does anyone have any objections?"

He stared at each one of them; Toby, Happy, Cabe. . . They all shifted their eyes to Paige then to the floor before shaking their heads. "What about Sly?" asked the shrink, lifting his chin defiantly.

"Well, it's a landslide. His vote doesn't matter," he replied, paraphrasing Sylvester's words about the vote making his then new car the company car.

"Come on." Cabe gruffly cleared his throat. "The day's not getting any younger. . ."

"And neither are you." Toby danced out of the way of Happy's fist as he turned to leave. Cabe and Allie left hand in hand as the mechanic hung back.

She walked up to Walter, placing her hand on his arm for brief moment. "I'm sorry,' she said softly before spinning on her boot heel and stalking out the door.

Tipping his head back, Walter let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He trudged toward his desk on feet made of lead, collapsing into his chair when his legs were no longer able to support him. Leaning forward, he grasped his head in his hands. 

Her presence filled every inch of the garage. He could hear her breathing, the rustle of her clothing as she moved impatiently, her lavender scent tickling his nose. He didn't trust himself to look at her. Afraid to look into her hazel eyes, which he knew without having to see them were brimming with tears. Afraid to see her lip quivering as she bit it. Afraid that just small glimpse of her beautiful face would totally undo all his resolve to extract her from his life. 

Swallowing past the huge lump in his throat, he stood up, bracing himself with his arms as his gaze was still aimed at his desktop. Then he broke the silence, asking the question he didn't know if he wanted answered.

"Why?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some really bad dark stuff at the end of this chapter of someone having some really bad dark thoughts.

"Why?"

Pain pulsed off of him in waves, nearly knocking her down as she cautiously approached his workstation. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Paige tugged the edge of her turtleneck a bit higher.

He couldn't even look at her, not that she blamed him. She'd seen her reflection in the waiting room window, saw the incriminating mess she'd been. She couldn't even look at herself.

"Walter. . .please. . .I'm sorry. . ."

He shook his head as if he hadn't heard her. "I thought I had improved. I thought I was becoming the person you wanted me to be. I tried. . ."

Something warm and coppery filled her mouth. Oh, God. "Walter. . .it wasn't you. . . I love you the way you are."

"Do you?" There was a bitterness to his tone which frightened her. "I've loved you from almost the moment we met. You were kind and patient and brave and. . ." His words caught in his throat as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

"Walter. . ."

"So you and. . .and him. . .you were intimate before you and I. . ?".

She could see the question was tearing him up inside. "Yes. . . And I'm sor. . ."

He cut off her apology. "And today wasn't the first time. . .since. . .?"

She shook her head. "No. . . Walter. . . Please. Don't do this to yourself.."

"I'm just gathering all the facts. Good decision making is based on having all the pertinent facts." 

It was killing her to see him like this; so robotic, so defeated, so heartbreakingly sad. And she was the reason. She was the one to blame and he needed to know it.

"Walter, you didn't do anything wrong. It was me who. . ." she started to explain, breaking off when it dawned her she had no justification for what she'd done. It was over. She'd lost the man she loved. And for what? Some kinky sex with a man who would have done anything to destroy her relationship with Walter.

_Oh, God_. Was that what had happened? Had she stupidly fallen right into Tim's trap to break up her and Walter? He really hadn't even pressured her that much. A couple of hugs, a couple of kisses, a little pouting and she's given in so easily. She pressed her hand to her stomach as it threatened to empty itself.

"It wasn't your fault," she said as she fought back her nausea. "It wasn't anything you did. . .or didn't. . .do. I want you to believe that."

He didn't say anything for what seemed like hours. She watched his fingers slowly slide across the top of his desk, his knuckles whitening. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he finally spoke. "You know you can't be here anymore." She nodded as tears dripped down her cheeks. "For Ralph's sake, I'm giving you a year's severance again. And I've already spoken to Elia. There will be no cushy job with him waiting for you this time."

"Okay," she whimpered. She would willingly take any punishment he wanted to hand out. "Walter, I'm so. . ."

"I don't want to hear it." He got to his feet, his gaze still firmly fixed downward. "I can't. . ."

Her breath caught in her throat as she took a step closer. "Walter, please. I need to know you're okay. Your heart. . ." she asked, concerned about its physical condition. Certain of its emotional state.

"Oh, you mean the one you broke into a million little pieces?" His hands clenched into fists. "Like you give a damn." 

"Walter, of course I give a damn. I love you."

"You love me?" he sneered derisively. "How could you love me and. . .and. . .do _that_. . .with someone else? And not just anyone else. . .but. . . but with. . . _Him_." 

Walter's gut lurched at the thought of even saying the other man's name. "It's bad enough you cheated on me. . . but with. . ." He gulped in a lungful of air. "I'd rather you'd picked up some random stranger in a bar. . .

"I just don't understand why. Wasn't I enough for you? I know. . .I know I wasn't experienced, but I thought. . . I-I thought you were satisfied. I-I thought you were h-happy. You should have told me you weren't. You know I can't decipher emotional clues without help." 

A sickening thought crossed his mind. "Or was this another one of those ‘sink or swim' experiments you're so fond of? If I couldn't figure out what you needed emotionally, you'd go. . .go f-fuck someone else?

"No, it wasn't like that. No. . . Walter, please. . . I was happy. . .I am. . ." 

"Just get out," he ordered, raking his hands through his hair. Her presence. . . It was becoming more than he could bear. "Just go. . . Go before I do something I'll regret." 

A twinge of panic shot through him as she burst into sobs. "Walter, please. . . What about Ralph?" 

He wondered when she'd play the Ralph card. The area around his heart started to ache and he wasn't sure how much was physical pain and how much was emotional. Not that it mattered. Drawing up the rest of his resolve, he replied, "I already said goodbye to him at the hospital." 

She stopped wailing, her face draining of color. "You didn't tell him. . ." 

"No. But he's a genius, he figured it out. Plus he smelled _his_ shitty cologne on you." He knew he was being deliberately harsh when he heard her gasp. But he had to be. 

He finally lifted his head and looked at her. Really looked at her. Her face was blotchy from crying, her lip was bleeding from where she must have bit it, her posture so brittle she appeared to be about to shatter. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He didn't want to take his eyes off her for a single second. 

And if this was to be their last moment together, he wanted to make it count.

"You know what the worst part of this is?" She shook her head. "I still love you," he said, the words ripping at his throat. "I always will. You're the love of my life."

"Oh, God." Her knees buckled and she had to grab onto his desk to remain upright. She was less than a meter away. He could hear her raspy breathing, smell her damn lavender. . .

"I said to get out." She had to leave. He needed her to leave. Now.

"Walter, please. . ." Gazing into his eyes, Paige could see his contempt, his disgust. Saw all the pain and anguish she had caused him. But underneath it all, she could see his desire. Saw that what he said was true. He still loved her. 

He abruptly turned away from her, practically sprinting to the stairs leading to his loft, slamming its door behind him. An odd sort of numbness spread over her body as she gathered up her belongings, placing them in the box Happy had so angrily slammed onto her desk. Once she finished, she carried it to the door, giving the garage one last glance. 

Somehow she managed to hold it together until she arrived at her condo. Ditching the box onto her sofa, she headed for her bedroom, fresh tears flowing down her face before she hit her pillow.

She was blowing her nose a couple of hours later when her cell rang. Jumping off her bed, she dashed into the living room where she'd left her purse, answering it on the fourth ring. _Oh, please, let it be Walter_ , she pleaded, although she knew deep down he wouldn't have changed his mind and forgiven her so quickly

"Hey, Paige."

_Tim. Oh, God_. Swallowing back the bile rising in her throat, she fumbled with her phone as she attempted to end the call.

"Hey, are you okay? What happened? Is Ralph okay?" His rapid fire questions pissed her off for some reason. He had no right to act like he cared. 

"I can't see you anymore," she snapped. 

He chuckled knowingly. "Yeah, you've said that before, but you keep coming back for more." 

"You bastard," she hissed. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?" 

"Did what?" He sounded bewildered which only stoked her fury higher. 

"You know what you did, you son of a bitch." 

"Paige, what the hell are you talking about?" he barked back at her. "I just called to see if you and Ralph were okay and to let you know I'm going to be out of town for about ten days. I have to head back to Jordan tomorrow morning to oversee some new employees. I just found out a few minutes ago." 

Paige plopped down onto her couch, stunned. Either he was totally clueless or he was more devious than she ever thought he could be. It didn't matter though. She never wanted to see him again.

"Paige? Did you hear what I said?" 

"I heard you. Fuck off, Tim. Don't ever call me again." She ended the call and tossed her phone across the room. It rang almost immediately. She got up off the sofa and retrieved it, realizing she was going to have to change her number. And she was going to have to move. 

She ignored the call, sent a text message to her son, turned off her cell, then went into her bedroom to pack a bag for the night.

_____

Walter didn't know why he even attempted to sleep. He'd stripped down to his underwear and headed toward his bedroom, but just one look of the bed and all the memories of the first time they'd been together. . . The first time he'd ever been intimate with anyone. . . Every kiss, every touch, every satisfied sigh from her lips. . . All of it had inundated his mind. Pain so severe had swept through him he thought he was having another arrhythmia.

He'd breathed in big gulps of air, ran random equations through his head. Once he'd calmed himself to a reasonable level, he put his clothes back on and went downstairs.

Even there, he wasn't immune from memories of her. They'd been intimate on his desk. And on her desk. The kitchen table (which they had thoroughly disinfected afterwards, giggling all the while). In the mini Winnie. In the back seat of the only one of the old cars scattered around the garage that still had one.

He remembered her first day working there. How she'd brightened up the place every time she'd stepped inside. How he'd fallen for her a little more every day he'd spent in her company. 

Walking across the floor, he stopped behind his desk, recalling their last moments together. When she'd moved nearer. Near enough her breath mingled with his. Her lavender scent teasing his senses. The warmth of her body enveloping itself around him. The pain and sorrow and love he saw shimmering in her eyes.

He'd come close, so close, too close, to pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Forgiving her, offering to wipe the slate clean and start over. He didn't want to lose her. She was his everything.

But then he'd noticed it. Peeking out just a fraction of an inch over the top of her turtleneck. The telltale purplish yellow bruise of a hickey. He'd almost vomited, the thought she'd. . .with _him_. The interloper. The son of a bitch who was everything he could never be. 

He'd hated her in that fleeting second. He'd had to get away from her before his anger overrode his desire or his desire overrode his anger. Either outcome would have been unfavorable.

Memories, good and bad, lurked in every corner of the garage. He wanted to leave, to get as far away as possible. But he was in no condition to go anywhere. Pain was threatening to consume him. Killing him slowly. Piece by piece. Bit by bit. Pain he knew wouldn't subside any time soon. If ever. . .

He couldn't live like this. Without her. Without Ralph. With the never ending agony. . . 

His lips curled grimly. There really was only one thing he could do to stop it.

_____

Happy slammed on the brakes as she pulled up in front of the garage the next morning. Toby watched as she smacked the gear shift into park, then wrenched open her door.

"Are you still upset about last night, my little turtledove?" he asked as he followed her out of the pickup.

"Shove it, Doc." She halted in her tracks before spinning around to face him. "Cabe had no business making us leave. We should have stayed. . ."

"I know it's not what you want to hear," said the shrink. "But Cabe was right. I didn't like leaving them alone either. But it was the correct thing to do."

"He probably forgave that bitch," she grumbled. "They're probably upstairs right now, screwing each other's brains out."

"Ew, I haven't even had my coffee yet." Toby shuddered before looking at his wife pensively. "And why are you thinking about them making the beast with two backs anyway?"

The mechanic was spared from answering as Cabe's SUV drove up and parked beside them. "Everything all right?" the agent asked as he got out of his vehicle.

"Don't know, we haven't been inside yet." Toby strode over to the door, punched in the access code, turned off the alarm, then opened the door. "This way, Madam, Monsieur," he said as he bowed mockingly.

A funky stench assaulted his nose as soon as he walked through the door. The usual ‘garage stink' laced with an oily gasoline-y vibe. "What the hell?" he asked as he clapped his hand over his lower face.

Cabe and Happy had done likewise as they stopped in the middle of the room. "What the hell is all this?" the older man asked, pointing downward.

Toby came up behind them. Items were arranged a neat line across the concrete floor. Knives of various shapes and sizes were interspersed with several pairs of scissors. Razors blades, bottles of medications, chemicals of both the household and scientific variety came next. Ropes, a stack of bed sheets, pillows, a radio. . . The line ended at the front bumper of Walter's Malibu, which they hadn't realized he'd parked inside until that moment.

"Did I miss the notice we're doing an inventory for tax purposes or something?" asked Cabe in obvious confusion. 

"No," said Toby solemnly as he assessed each of the objects. "It's an inventory, though," he added, panic welling up inside him. "Of all the things someone could use to commit suicide." 

"Where the fuck is Walter?" asked Happy in a terrified voice as she glanced around with wide eyes. 

They all scattered in different directions, Happy dashing upstairs, Toby and Cabe covering opposite ends of the building. 

"Oh, shit," growled Cabe as he yanked open the door of the Malibu. Toby arrived in time to see Walter slumped over the steering wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are in pain, TELL someone. Or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. (1-800-273-TALK).
> 
> You are not alone.


	13. Chapter 13

"No!"

The sound of Happy's anguished cry startled Walter out of the limbo between wakefulness and unconsciousness. Someone grabbed his left wrist, probably Toby, if the roughened fingertips from hours of card playing were any indication. Slight pressure was applied to his pulse, no doubt to make sure he still had one.

"He's not dead," the shrink announced, and Walter could feel the other man's relief. "He's just asleep."

Footsteps grew closer, then small hard knuckles came in painful contact with his upper arm. "You son of a bitch." Happy's hissed words coupled with another punch to the same spot made his eyes pop open.

"Wha. . ." His attempt at speech was cut short when the mechanic grabbed the hair at top of his head, yanking it upward.

"You fucking bastard," she snarled. Paralyzed by the fury in her tone, he could only watch as Toby came up behind her and tried to pull her away. Walter winced when she refused to relinquish her grip. 

"Ow," he protested as his hair began to tear away from his scalp. "Dammit, Happy, let go." He was fully awake now, terrified by the look in her eyes as her husband held her up off the ground.

"Don't you ever do this to me again, you asshole," she snarled, reluctantly releasing his hair as the shrink set her back down.

Walter started to rub the top of his head but stopped when a sharp pain shot through his right wrist. Lowering his arm, he pressed his lips together as he saw the white gauze clumsily wrapped around it. 

"You wanna explain all this?" Cabe growled, making his presence known as he pointed to the items lined up across the floor.

Walter sighed. No, he didn't want to explain it. But glancing at the three worried faces staring at him, he knew he had no choice. "I was considering," he began, "considering the best way to, ah, the best way to. . ."

"Commit suicide." Toby finished his sentence for him. "Yeah, we figured out that much, 197."

"Oh." He shouldn't be surprised. He hadn't even tried to cover up his intentions. "Well, I was going over the pros and cons of each method and decided the only way that was guaranteed to be the most effective and painless would be carbon monoxide poisoning." His eyes darted around the interior of the garage. 

"But as you can see, given the dimensions of the building, the amount of exhaust produced by only one vehicle, the desired outcome was impossible. My car ran out of gas before I even got light-headed."

"So why didn't you just use one of the other methods?" asked Toby, who ducked when Happy's fist flew at him. "It's a valid question," he said, holding up his hands defensively to ward off a second blow.

"The other methods were inferior," stated Walter. "Most of them would have caused me pain before the desired result occurred. I was trying to end the pain, not cause more." 

Happy grabbed his right arm and pointed at the bandage. "Is that what I think it is?"

He nodded. "I attempted to. . ." He had to pause as he remembered the burning sting caused by the knife slicing through his skin. "I couldn't do it."

"Well, hell, son, if you're serious about offing yourself, have at it," said Cabe, pulling his gun from its holster and holding it out to Walter, butt first.

"What the fuck, Cabe. Are you insane?" Happy tried to lunge for the weapon but Toby restrained her once again. 

"I've been where you're at before, Walter," said Cabe, his voice cracking as he spoke, ignoring the mechanic's tirade. "You think I didn't consider ending it after Amanda died? Because I did. I wanted the pain to end as badly as you do. But it won't, it'll just cause more pain for the loved ones you leave behind. 

"But it's your choice. . .to be selfish and take the coward's way out, or live and grow stronger despite the shit hand life dealt you." The agent nudged Walter's hand with the pistol.

"Put it away." Walter tore his eyes away to stare at the floor, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. "I-I changed my mind hours ago. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment." His chest constricted as he tried to take a deep breath. "S-She's not. . .not w-worth it," he lied, knowing he wasn't fooling anyone, not even himself. 

"Who was it?" He glanced up sharply at Happy who was glaring angrily at him. "Who was the bastard she slept with?"

"Who said she slept with anyone?" asked Toby. 

"You saw her," the mechanic snapped. "Even Ralph figured out she'd just had her brains fuck. . ."

"Happy, that's enough," said Walter as he slid out of his car, surprised his legs didn't buckle. "It's none of your business. Scorpion survived without her before and we will again. Now, if we're done here, let's get to work."

He stalked off, picking up things off the floor and placing them on Paige's desk. 

Toby motioned for the others to huddle closer. "We're going to need to keep an eye on him," he murmured, watching as the genius cleaned up the rest of the items, piling everything on the liaison's workstation. "He's not over her, not by a long shot."

"He's right though," Happy said. "She's not worth it." She lifted her eyes toward the loft. "I'm going to go make sure she didn't leave any of her shit up there."

"Good idea," her husband agreed before turning to the Homeland agent. "Once he's done," he began, tipping his head toward Walter, "make sure her desk is stripped bare of any of her belongings. In fact, make sure the whole garage is devoid of her presence." 

"Shouldn't that be up to Walter?" asked Cabe. "What if he wants to keep something, a memento. . ."

The shrink tapped his temple. "He's got it all stored up here. It's going to be bad enough he'll never forget her. He doesn't need any physical reminders lying around like ticking time bombs."

"Fine," said the older man with a shake of his head. "I think you're wrong. . ."

"Who's the Harvard trained behaviorist here?" 

Cabe made a rude noise and walked away. Toby sighed. It was obvious even to the untrained eye Walter needed help. But whether or not he'd accept it. . . Knowing what a stubborn ass the other man could be, the shrink knew he'd be fighting an uphill battle.

He'd just have to be subtle.

_____

Paige was in her kitchen, sorting through her pots and pans. She'd spent the previous night in a hotel as a precaution. She'd changed her cell number. On the way back to her condo that morning, she'd stopped at a do it yourself moving company and picked up a stack of boxes. She'd scanned the "For Rent" sections of several websites and had found a couple of promising apartments in a price range she hoped she'd be able to afford.

She couldn't stay at the condo. Not only because she was sure Tim wouldn't leave her alone, but because it held too many memories of her and Walter. She'd had to sleep on the couch (if tossing and turning for hours could be considered sleep). The prospect of lying by herself in her bed. . .the bed they'd shared. . . She just couldn't.

The sound of a key turning in the front door made her nearly jump out of her shoes. Oh, God. . . He wouldn't. . . Setting down the skillet she held, she peered around the corner into the living room.

Her heart slowed when she saw Ralph shutting the door behind him. The boy tossed his backpack onto the floor before walking toward the sofa and flopping down on it. Glancing at her watch, Paige noted it was a little after ten. It was Tuesday. A school day. He should be at school. 

Wondering why Sylvester hadn't dropped him off there hours ago, she realized the last thing she should do was to confront him about it. He was already upset with her. And she had a feeling her plans would only make him more so.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said as she approached his slouched figure. "Did you have a good time at Sly's?"

"Sure." His voice dripped with sarcasm and he didn't look up at her.

"Are you hungry?" 

"No." He leaned forward, picking up the game remote from the coffee table. 

She sighed. She was already letting him miss school. He need to do something more constructive than play video games. "Ralph, I need you to take a couple of these boxes to your bedroom." She pointed at the pile of flattened cardboard. 

"Why?"

Paige took a deep breath. She didn't know how to make this any less painful for him. But it had to be done. "Because I need you to start packing up your room. . . Because we're moving."

The controller slipped from his hands. "No."

She frowned with confusion. "No what?"

"I'm not moving."

He said the words so obstinately. So bitterly. She was starting to lose her patience. "Ralph, we don't have a choice. I. . .I lost my job and we won't be able to afford this place much longer."

Ralph plopped up against the back of the couch. "Walter fired you, didn't he?" 

She flinched at the sound of his name on her son's lips. "Y-Yes," she said once she'd recovered.

"Good." He sounded almost gleeful.

"Ralph!" She couldn't believe how disrespectful he was being. Or maybe she could. And maybe she deserved it.

"Is he the reason why we're moving?" he asked, finally turning his head to look at her. "So he can't find us?"

"No, it's not that. It's not him I'm. . ."

Ralph cut her off. "It's to get away from Tim then," he stated coldly.

Oh, God, he _did_ know about Tim. She had hoped Walter had been just trying to strike back at her. But she realized he would never use Ralph to hurt her. Tears threatened to spill once again as the enormity of what she had done. . .and what she had lost. . .punched her in the gut.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Ralph was saying, bringing her out of her self-induced misery. "Walter can find me when he wants to," he said confidently. She knew he was right. He would want to contact her son someday. Her son, not her.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she began, knowing nothing she said or did would ever be enough to soothe him right now.

Ralph sprang up off the sofa, his hands clenched into fists. "I wanted us to be a family. I wanted him to be. . .to be my dad." A sob tore through him and her heart ached even more. "And now. . . You ruined everything! You ruined my life! I hate you!"

He stomped off into the direction of his bedroom, neglecting to take any of the boxes with him. She winced as he slammed the door. Sitting down in the spot he'd just vacated, she listened to the thumps and muffled words, which were no doubt curse words he wasn't supposed to know, coming from his room. 

She should be upset with him. With his disrespect. His disobedience. But she couldn't blame him for any of it. 

Because he was right. She _had_ ruined everything.

She buried her face in her hands and cried until she ran out of tears.

_____

**APPROXIMATELY ONE YEAR LATER**  
 **(Twelve months, two weeks, and five days to be exact, if you're counting, which he definitely wasn't. . .okay so he was. . .dammit)**

Walter walked into a small restaurant situated across the street from the café where he had just installed a wireless router. He'd been through their kitchen and decided to get a cup of coffee somewhere else a little cleaner, thinking it was going to take more than free wi-fi for them to attract more customers. 

At least the owner had paid him upfront, he thought as he walked past the ‘Please Seat Yourself' sign. It was a little past two in the afternoon; too late for lunch, too early for dinner, and the restaurant was sparsely populated. Walter slid into the first empty booth, facing away from the counter. 

After loosening his tie, he stared out the window, rubbing the small scar on his right wrist. He was supposed to go straight back to the garage after he finished the install. But he was tired of the annoyingly short leash the rest of the team kept him on. It didn't seem to matter he was no longer suicidal, hadn't been since that first night. . . When the pain and darkness had threatened to overwhelm him until he remembered the promise he'd made to Ralph. 

Deep down, he knew it was just their way of letting him know they cared about him. And he did appreciate it. But enough was enough. He needed to be able to live his own life, on his terms, and he couldn't do that if they insisted on monitoring his every move and pressuring him into doing things he wasn't ready to do.

Someone was at the garage when he woke up in the morning. Someone stayed until he went to bed at night. He wouldn't be surprised if they had a nanny cam or two spying on him while he slept. They forced him into activities outside the garage, telling him he couldn't just hide from the world like a hermit. They were essentially treating him like a child. And he was weary of it.

He should at least be able to get a damn cup of coffee without throwing everyone into a panic. 

His defiant thoughts were interrupted as he sensed someone coming up behind him. Probably one of the waitstaff, he decided as he continued to stare at the busy street outside. 

A glass of ice water was placed in front of him by a hand with neatly painted purple nails. A hand he recognized in an instant.

Glancing upward, Walter found himself staring into the stunned hazel eyes of Paige Dineen.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote almost all of the dialogue for this chapter last year after the Season 3 finale. I've just tweaked it here and there, adding a little, subtracting a little. This was always going to happen, just the way it happens, except for one little twist, which I think just adds to the angst.

"Paige." 

"Walter."

His whispered name on her lips sent a shiver down his spine. The last place he would have expected to find her was working as a waitress. He thought she would have found another job similar to the one she had at Scorpion. He would have given her a good reference, as would Elia. But she hadn't. She was here, staring at him as he was staring at her.

"I-I can g-go," he suggested, seeing what he thought was dismay on her thinner, beautiful face. A face he thought to never see again. A face which still haunted his dreams every night.

"No. . . No, stay," she murmured. "My shift is over in fifteen minutes." She smoothed down the front of her apron and took a step back.

"Wait," he pleaded, not wanting her to go just yet. He reached out and touched her hand, the old familiar jolt of desire shooting through him, addling his brain until he broke the connection.

A small gasp had escaped her throat, indicating she had been similarly affected by the contact. "Walter. . ."

"Can we. . . Can we talk? Please?" 

She didn't reply and he grew certain she was going to turn him down. "Okay," she agreed, and he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Do you still want to order?" she asked, indicating the notepad in her hand.

"No, this is fine." He picked up the glass of ice water she'd set down in front of him, recalling the first time she'd ever done so. On the day they'd first met. The day he'd fallen in love with her. There were tears shimmering in her eyes and he knew she was remembering it as well.

"Okay. I, uh, I'll be back when my shift's over," she said before turning and walking away. He watched her go, unable to take his eyes off of her until she disappeared around a corner.

Less than twenty minutes later, she approached him, this time carrying her purse and a sweater. "So, you want to talk?"

"Would it be all right if we went somewhere else?" he asked, sliding out of the booth. There were things he needed to say and he didn't think he should say them at her place of work.

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "Where?"

The garage was out. Animosity toward Paige still ran strong through most of its occupants. Kovelski's was also a no-go, since the odds of running into someone they knew there were too high. 

"The beach?" he asked after rejecting several other venues. "The one where we. . ."

"Okay," she agreed before he could finish. "Sounds good."

"Separate cars?" When she looked confused, he added, "So you can leave whenever you want."

"All right, I'll meet you there." She gave him a tentative smile before turning away. 

Walter watched as she headed back through the kitchen, wondering if she truly was going to be there or if he'd never see her again. Both prospects made him slightly queasy. He took one last sip of the now tepid water before heading toward the exit.

_____

She must have beat him to the beach as she didn't see his car in the parking lot. Getting out of her Malibu, Paige slipped off her shoes and socks before walking barefoot out onto the sand. It seemed like a lifetime ago they'd helped Owen, the boy who had been trapped in a sea cave on Christmas Eve. Or when they'd launched Megan's ashes into space a year later; Walter sacrificing fifteen million dollars to give himself closure over her death.

She'd been so full of hope that day. Remembering how Walter had reached for her, crying in her arms as she did her best to comfort over the loss of his sister. How he'd held her hand as they watched the rocket soar out of sight. Before everything had gotten so muddled and awkward and had gone so horribly wrong.

"Hey." She'd been so lost in her reminiscing, she hadn't heard Walter approach. He glanced nervously at her as he stepped up beside her. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, a blanket draped over one arm.

"Hey," she said, still in a bit of shock he was there with her as they started walking toward the water.

"Wanna sit down?" he asked about fifty feet from the shore.

"Okay." She watched as he spread the blanket onto the sand. When he finished, he held out his hand to her. She stared at it, uncertain whether she should take it. When he'd touched her earlier, at the restaurant. . . Heat had flowed through her like a wildfire before settling into a throbbing ache low in her belly. 

She'd thought she'd seen a flare of desire in his eyes, but figured it had to be wishful thinking. He couldn't want her, not after what she'd done. He'd been so disgusted with her a year ago, and rightly so. She'd been disgusted with herself. 

When she lifted her her head, he was staring expectantly at her, no trace of revulsion on his thin, handsome face. Her hand trembled as she took his and he helped her lower herself down onto the blanket. As soon as she could, she let go, curling up with her knees against her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he sat down at least a two feet away, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his thighs.

A light breeze ruffled the curls on the top of his head, curls which had become a lot more unruly since she'd seen him last. He must have ditched the t-shirts he'd worn when they'd been together in favor of the button-down shirts and ties he'd once worn. His tie had been loosed and the top two buttons of his light blue shirt had been undone. She could see the neck of his white undershirt peeking out. Sadly she wondered if he had also reverted back to the low-EQ robot he'd been when they'd met.

His gaze was pointed toward the ocean, apparently fixated on the waves lapping at the sand. For someone who'd been so eager to talk, he sure seemed to be at a loss for words. Realizing she would have to get the ball rolling, she took a deep breath.

"I had sex with another woman," he blurted out before she could even open her mouth. Her jaw dropped along with her stomach and a sharp ache formed around her heart. Her vision began to blur. _Oh, God_. The thought of him. . .with someone else. . . She'd been his first, and she'd wanted to be his last, his only. She blinked back her tears, her hypocrisy making her sick with shame.

"Who?" She didn't care if it was none of her business, she needed to know. Praying it hadn't been Linda or worse yet, that computer scientist. . .Gloria Gorgeous or whatever her name had been.

"Her name was Florence," he said, still staring out at sea. "Is Florence. Florence Tipton. Remember the vacant building adjacent to the garage?" She nodded, wondering what on earth it had to do with him sleeping with this Flo woman. "Anyway, she, uh, rented it about six months ago. She was, is, a chemist and she was using it a lab and she didn't like the noise we were making and we didn't even know she'd moved in and. . ." 

He must have realized he was rambling because he paused, inhaling sharply. "She helped us out on a few cases and. . . Cabe and Toby thought she and I were compatible and I should ask her out." Running his hand over the back of his neck, he continued. "She had pleasantly symmetrical features, was of above average intelligence, we had similar interests. . . So I did. Ask her out," he added as if he were clarifying it for her.

"Did they think you should sleep with her too," she asked harshly, fury threatening to explode inside her. He'd been vulnerable, was still vulnerable. To force him into a relationship before he was ready. . . She saw the shrink's meddling fingers all over this. If she ever saw Toby again, she was gonna rip him a new one.

"No," he confessed somewhat sheepishly, only confirming her suspicions he'd been coerced into going out with this woman. "She indicated she desired intercourse after our third date. I wasn't really attracted to her. But I was curious. I wanted to see if. . .um. . . So. . .so, I, uh, did. . . I had sex with her."

She couldn't tell if he was gloating, deliberately trying to hurt her as she'd hurt him, or if he truly had no idea his every word felt like he was stabbing her in the heart with a dull knife. 

"Walter, you don't need. . ." she started to interrupt him, not knowing how much more she could take. He went on as if he hadn't heard her.

"It was not one of my better experiments. The outcome was unfavorable. I, uh. . I couldn't respond to her physically until. . .until I imagined she was you." He chuckled mirthlessly. "She was less than thrilled when I called her by your name at a critical juncture."

"Oh, God." Paige didn't know whether to laugh or cry, although she was leaning heavily toward crying. The way he had whispered her name when he came, so full of awe, so full of love. . . It usually sent her over the edge, even if she'd already orgasmed. That he'd said it. . .while with someone else. . . The tears which had been threatening began to spill.

He still had his eyes trained forward, watching a young family playing in the surf near the water's edge. "She made it clear she never wanted to see me again," he continued. "She, uh, packed up her lab and moved away about a couple of weeks later. They stopped pestering me about dating after that."

"Oh, God, Walter. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything until you hear me out," he said as he scrambled to his feet before getting back down on his knees in front of her, his dark brown eyes boring into hers. "I-I still love you. I will always love you."

"Walter. . ." Oh, God, she never imagined she'd ever hear those words from him again. But then she had never expected to ever see him again. And it made her shiver with fear, wondering what else he had to say.

"P-Please, hear me out," he cut in. "I had an epiphany after. . . After what happened with, uh. . . After my unsuccessful foray into dating. I-I tried to call y-you, but your number was no longer in service, so. . . I went to your condo. Someone else was living there."

"I moved and changed my number," she said briskly. "I-I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again." She couldn't tell him the real reason, that she didn't want to hear from Tim again. But he was smart, and by the way he nodded, he'd already guessed why.

"I supposed I could have tried harder to track you down, but I figured you went to a lot of trouble to drop off the radar, so I. . . I gave up." 

"I'm so sorry," she murmured.

He ran a hand through his windblown curls. "I know now I'm not enough for you, that y-you need more than I'm capable of giving you, both emotionally and physically. So if you need other men to fulfill those. . .n-needs. . . I can live with that. Because I can't live w-without y-you. I just ask you to please be discreet and practice safe sex."

He lifted his eyes to met hers and she could see he meant every word of what he was proposing. His sincerity nearly broke her. She'd done this to him, shattered his heart, wounded his pride, had damaged him so badly he thought he was the one lacking, he was the one to blame for her cheating with Tim. She got up on her knees, reaching out to take his hands in hers. 

"Walter, I'm so sorry that I hurt you," she began. "I wish I could take away the pain I put you through, but I know I can't. The damage has been done and I have to live with what I. . .."

Her breath hitched as hot tears scalded her cheeks. "I know I've destroyed any trust you ever had in me." She reached out and caressed his face. "Walter, I still love you, too. I've never stopped. But what you're offering. . ."

She shook her head, dropping her hand. "That's not what I want. And I don't think you do either."

"I don't," he admitted. "But, Paige. . .I'm lost without you. This past year. . ." He stared down at the sand. "It's been the worst year of my life."

"For me too." She sat back on her heels, wiping at her eyes. "I've been seeing a therapist to find out why. . .why I did what I did."

"Oh." He sounded surprised. "And did you. . .did you discover why?"

"I'm afraid to be happy," she said. "Every time in my life I've been happy, something always happened to take it away." She picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "And I was so happy with you. Too happy. I got scared. Scared you'd grow tired of me. Scared you'd want to be with someone more your intellectual equal. Scared you'd abandon me like everyone else did.

"So I tried to tell myself I was dissatisfied. That you weren't romantic enough. The sex was too vanilla. And even though I knew none of that was true, it didn't stop me from self-sabotaging our relationship. It was all my fault. Certainly not yours. Not even _his_. The blame is all on me. I just hope that someday you can forgive me."

"Paige." He raised his eyes to meet hers. "What you did. . . It did hurt me. I can't pretend it didn't. But you're the love of my life. I'd forgive you anything."

"Oh, God, Walter. . ." She didn't deserve his forgiveness. She didn't deserve him. 

"I-I'd like to start again," he said. "Us. For us to start again. If it's something you'd want. . ."

"It's something I want," she replied. "More than anything. Oh, God. . ." She had to turn away, tears leaking from her eyes once again. "I'm so sor. . ."

"Stop," Walter said, holding out his hand. "You've already apologized and I've forgiven you."

She glanced at him. "But will you ever trust me?"

"I. . .I don't know. . ." But he wanted to. Wanted to so badly. But he'd worry about it later. Because right now, he could only think of how much he loved her. "C-Can I hold you," he asked. "Please. . . I-I. . ."

She didn't let him finish as she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. He took a deep breath, almost weak with relief that under the layers of grease and sweat, he could still smell her lavender. Her body felt thinner, more fragile, as his hands glided down her spine until they rested at the small of her back. She'd slid her hands across his shoulders to the back of his head, where her fingers entwined themselves in his hair. 

"Your hair's longer than before. . ." she murmured as she absently twirled a strand of it.

"I can get it cut," he offered, willing to shave it all off if that was what she wanted.

"No, I like it this way." She raked both hands through it. A shiver passed through him as he thrummed with desire. 

"M-May I kiss you?"

"Walter. . ." She pulled away, and he was sure he'd overstepped a boundary. "Walter, you don't have to ask."

"Oh." There was a light in her eyes, the one which had been missing all those months before, and he was nearly overcome with joy. "I love you," he murmured before softly pressing his lips to hers.

What started out as a gentle spark soon burst into a raging inferno. Lust shot through him as their tongues tasted and teased, dancing together in a familiar rhythm. She tugged him closer, grabbing fists full of his hair as his hands cupped the curve of her bottom. Without breaking their kiss, Paige slowly sank back onto the blanket, bringing Walter down on top of her.


	15. Chapter 15

_Without breaking their kiss, Paige slowly sank back onto the blanket, bringing Walter down on top of her._

The sand shifted beneath her as the weight of Walter's body came to rest on top of hers. Oh, God, how she'd missed him. Missed his lips, his hands caressing her, missed running her fingers through his curls. . .

Whimpering as his mouth left hers, her displeasure was short-lived as he kissed his way along her jaw, nipping her ear before moving his lips downward, sending shivers down her spine. Her breasts grew heavy as his fingers skimmed upward, teasing their tips through the layers of clothing. Desire swirled through her as he rocked against her.

"Hey, get a room!" 

Paige froze, catching a glimpse of Walter's mortified expression as the realization they were making out on a public beach sank in. He rolled off of her, and they laid side by side, both panting for breath. She glanced over at him, his bright red face matching her own burning cheeks.

"That's a good idea," she said, gauging his reaction. His eyes grew wide, glowing with anticipation, prompted her to add, "If you want to, we could. . ."

"There's a motel about a block away," he suggested, his blush darkening. 

She bit her lip. The thought of making love to Walter in some tawdry motel room. . . Shame swept through her as she was reminded of what she had done in such places with. . . "No," she replied, pushing aside her remorse. "The garage?"

He shook his head. "No good. The rest of the team will still be there. They, uh, they've been hanging around more lately." He glanced away, but not before she caught a glimpse of guilt in his eyes. 

Oh, God, had he slept with that woman, what's-her-name, Florence, at the garage? Is that why. . .? None of her business, she scolded herself. Stuffing down her irrational jealousy, she said cheerily, "Well, I guess it's my place then."

He seemed surprised at her suggestion. "Are y-you sure? Won't Ralph. . .?"

"He has astronomy club after school, then a class at CalTech. He won't be home until after nine."

"Oh. Don't you have to pick him up or. . .?"

A pang of sadness twinged through her. "He's become quite self-reliant in the past year," she said, getting to her feet and brushing the sand from her uniform slacks. "Do you still want to. . ." she began, worried he may have come to his senses and. . .

"Yes," he said, jumping to his feet. "Definitely yes." Snatching up the blanket, he shook it before haphazardly folding it. "So separate cars or. . .?"

"We can take mine. Unless you want. . ."

"Y-Yours is fine." 

She dug her keys out of her pocket, handing them to him. "I don't know where you live," he stated as he took them, a mixture of confusion and sadness on his face.

"It's all right, Walter," she said, a tear running down her cheek. "I can show you the way."

_____

"Well, this is it. Home sweet home," Paige announced as she unlocked the door and opened it, allowing Walter to enter.

"It's, uh, nice," he said as he walked into her apartment. The layout was different, but he recognized the furniture and knickknacks as being the ones from the condo. He also noted the fact it was a lot smaller and located in a rougher neighborhood. Not unlike the place where she and Ralph had been living when he'd first met them.

Guilt he was the cause of her reduced situation rose inside him. No matter how many times he told himself he'd been right to fire her, it did little to assuage his remorse. He still could have let her go work for Elia. But instead, he'd been petty, wanting her to suffer as much as he'd been suffering. 

"It's okay." Paige shrugged, tossing her sweater and purse on the couch. "So, um. . ."

Swallowing nervously, he dropped his gaze to the slightly worn carpet. The car ride had cooled his ardor somewhat, and he was second guessing himself. Thinking maybe they shouldn't rush things. . . That being intimate could wait. . . Wait until he could trust her again. . .

Walter lifted his head, saw she was staring at him, wondering if she was having her own misgivings. Wondering if she, too, thought they should wait. But they'd already waited. . . Three long years to finally be together, topped off by another three weeks before they'd been able to consummate their relationship.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence as she gestured toward the kitchen. She stood there before him, worriedly biting her lip, looking so damn beautiful. . . 

The flames of desire reignited inside him, burning hot and fierce. To hell with waiting. He'd already waited his whole life for her. The thought of being with her. . . A soft groan escaped his throat as he stepped forward, coming to a halt mere inches away.

"No," he replied, gazing into her eyes. "All I want is you."

"Oh, God, Walter," she whispered as she moved closer. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she slid her fingers upward, weaving them into his hair. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him before lowering his mouth to hers.

The kiss quickly grew as heated as the one they'd shared earlier at the beach. His hand slid down her spine, coming to rest on the small of her back. He pulled her tight, reveling in her softness, her scent, her heat. . .

He moaned as she slowly withdrew her lips away from his. "Let's take this into the bedroom," she suggested huskily. 

"O-Okay." He glanced around the unfamiliar apartment, unsure of where to go. 

She must have picked up on the fact he was lost. "This way." She grabbed his arm, leading down a short hallway and through the doorway on the left.

He barely had time to register the room wasn't as large as the one they'd shared at her condo before she had him pressed up against the door she'd just closed, her mouth mashing his. Her fingers slid up the sides of his neck, entwining themselves into his hair as she hooked her leg around his, pulling him closer.

Passive. He was being too passive; mentally flinching as he recalled the chemist angrily flinging the word at him after their botched encounter. He never should have gone out with her in the first place, shouldn't have succumbed to peer pressure and curiosity. Shouldn't have engaged in any kind of intimacy with a woman he didn't love. The implication behind the word had stung, making him realize he'd been too submissive in his relationship with Paige. Making him wonder if his passiveness was why she'd sought out. . .

Clearing his head of his unpleasant thoughts, he pushed off of the solid surface, flipping their positions so her back was against the door. Teasing her lips apart, he stroked her tongue with his as he fumbled with the fastenings on her white blouse. Little moans escaped her throat as she reached for the topmost button of his shirt. 

"God, I've missed you," she murmured, tugging the garment free from his trousers as he undid the last button on hers. A few clumsy moments later, they were skin to skin.

His head was spinning, his heart beat erratically; concern he was suffering another arrhythmia flitted through his head. That he was holding her, touching her. . .his brain was having trouble processing. . . 

He burrowed his face against her shoulder, inhaling her lavender scent, hoping it would calm him. But it only served to inflame him more, his body responding to hers as she stroked soothing fingers down his spine.

"Walter, it's okay," she said, picking up on his distress, "if it's too much. . .we can wait."

He abruptly lifted his head, searching her expression for signs she'd changed her mind. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she bit her lip. "I'm-I'm. . . I'm okay," he replied, frustrated he couldn't read her. "Do you not want to. . ."

She hesitated for a long second, then shook her head. "I don't want to wait. . ."

He crushed his mouth to hers, lowering his hand to her hips. His fingers slowly rose upward as he kissed his way down her neck. He cupped her breasts just as his lips grazed the closest nipple. Her knees threatened to give way when he swirled his tongue around the hard nub.

Paige closed her eyes, the ache between her thighs growing almost unbearable as he switched his attention to her other breast. And even though her brain was foggy with lust, she realized something was different. He was different. Oh, he still felt the same in her arms, a little thinner, which only emphasized his lean muscles. He still smelled like her Walter, a mixture of his soap and shampoo mingled with his sweat that always stirred her senses. 

But. . . He'd rarely taken the initiative when they'd been intimate before. That he was being more aggressive. . . Concerned he was still blaming himself and his lack of sexual experience for her infidelity, she clutched the sides of his face, lifting it so they could see eye to eye.

"Walter, you don't have to prove anything to me," she murmured, gently stroking the stubble on his cheeks. 

"I know," he replied, gazing at her with such a look of intensity it made her shiver. "Maybe I need to prove something to myself." He still held her breasts in his hands, and she shuddered when he ran his thumbs over their tips.

"Walter. . .oh. . ." She was going to ask him what he thought he needed to prove when his mouth latched onto her nipple, gently suckling her. Her knees trembled and she had to hang on to him to stay upright. 

He must have sensed her distress because he lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. His fingers went to the waistband of her black trousers, undoing the button then unzipping them and they slid to the floor. In danger of collapse, she clutched at him as he, with agonizing slowness, slipped her panties down her legs. 

His eyes darkened as he gazed up at her, the passion and reverence she could see in their depths making her forget she stood naked as he knelt before her.

"You are so beautiful," he said between ragged breaths. His hands encircled her ankles, and she moaned his name, shuddering as he caressed them upward over her calves, teasing the back of her knees, stroking his fingertips over her inner thighs. Quivering with anticipation, she wondered what he'd do next. She didn't have long to wait as he glided one finger through her nest of curls. She gasped as he pushed it inside her. 

"Oh, God, Walter." Panting for air, she was on the verge of coming apart when he withdrew from her. She only had a moment to recover though, as he replaced his finger with his mouth.

Her legs did give out then. He gently lowered her onto the mattress, and without skipping a beat, resumed torturing her with his lips and tongue. 

He lifted his head just as the pressure building up inside her nearly brought her to the edge. "I want to be inside you," he groaned huskily as he stood up, swiftly removing the rest of his clothes. "I need to be inside you." 

She nodded, reaching out her arms as he lowered his body on top of hers. Then his brow furrowed, frustration flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked, wondering if he'd changed his mind.

His cheeks reddened. "I-I, uh. . .I forgot. . .I don't have a. . .a. . . . Protection," he finally blurted out, darting his eyes away from hers. 

"It's okay," she murmured, shifting beneath him before giving him a quick kiss. "I'm safe." He still hesitated, and the thought they'd both been with others since the last time they'd been intimate crossed her mind, along with a stab of sorrow. "It's okay," she repeated, raking her hands through his curls. "Walter, please. . ."

Her plea was cut short as he eased himself into her, stretching her a bit uncomfortably as he filled her. It has been a year since. . . Reasons for her self-imposed celibacy were shoved aside as he slowly began moving inside her. Any pain was quickly doused as pleasure took over her entire body.

Walter took his time, letting his mind drift, not wanting to finish before they even got started. Tried not to think about how she felt writhing beneath him, as he reveled in the intimacy he'd craved since they'd parted. He'd learned a harsh lesson, which unfortunately had involved someone else. But he now knew Paige was the only person he would ever love, both emotionally and physically.

Gazing down as her as they moved as one, he noted her closed eyes, the half smile curving her lips, listening to her soft moans and sighs. Wondering if she was thinking of him or. . . His stomach clenched at the possibility she was picturing someone else, and he had to take a deep breath to clear his head. 

"Oh, God, Walter." Her murmured words as she skimmed her nails across his shoulders squashed his insecurity. He shivered as she stroked her hands down his arms, her muscles clenching around him. Joy mingled with pride welled up inside him as he recognized the familiar signs she was nearing her release. It was as if they'd never been apart.

Then she called out his name again, arching upward, trembling beneath him. Her climax sent him over the edge, grunting a little as he spilled inside her, its painful intensity turning him inside out. 

"Paige. Out of breath and shaking, he pressed his lips to her ear as he collapsed on top of her. After collecting what was left of his senses, he rolled off onto to his side, reaching for her. Alarm filled him, staying his movement when he saw the tears streaming down her face.

"Paige, oh, God. . ." Bile rose in his throat as he sat up, gazing down at her as she laid on her back, her chest heaving as she panted for air. "Did I. . .did I hurt you? Oh, God. . ." He was afraid to touch her, afraid he'd cause more damage than he already had.

She bit her lip as she shook her head. "It's. . . I'm okay, Walter," she replied, wiping at her damp cheeks. "It's just. . . I'm really. . ." She paused, glancing away then back at him with a watery smile. "I'm just really happy." She placed her hands on the sides of his face. " I love you."

Walter felt a trickle of moisture fall from his own eye as a tangle of emotions slammed into him at all once. He shoved most of them aside, focusing on two most important ones. 

"I'm happy, too," he said, giving voice to his thoughts as he gathered her into his arms. "And I love you."


	16. Chapter 16

Drying the last of the coffee mugs he'd washed up, Cabe put it away in the cupboard. After hanging up the towel, he wandered over to where Allie sat at her desk, squinting at a column of numbers.

"You ready to go, darling?"

Allie took off her reading glasses, rubbing her eyes. "You guys actually did this much damage tracking down those guys who infected the city's computers with a virus? I don't know how P. . ." 

Cabe glanced over his shoulder. Happy was on her cell but still. . . "Uh. . ." 

"Sorry, I mean I don't know how my predecessor managed to get Homeland to pay for everything. It's just so exhausting." Allie leaned back in her chair.

Cabe often wondered the same thing. She'd had a knack for getting bureaucrats to eat out of her hand. He doubted he'd ever forgive her for the way she'd betrayed Walter, but he had to admit she'd been good for the kid. Heck, she'd been good for all of them. It just didn't feel the same without her.

"Dammit." Happy's frustrated voice cut through his sentimental thoughts. 

Toby looked up from his book at his wife's outburst. "What's wrong, my little turtledove?"

"Walter's phone keeps dumping right to voice mail," she replied, jabbing at her cell.

"He's on a job," the shrink said with a shrug.

The mechanic gave her husband a glare Cabe was glad wasn't aimed in his direction. "He should have been back three and a half hours ago."

"Maybe he ran into some complications," suggested the agent.

"He was installing a router. He can do that in his sleep." Holding her phone against her ear, she cursed again. "He's still not picking up."

"Sugarplum. . ."

"Don't ‘Sugarplum' me, Doc," she snarled. "He's been acting squirrelly lately. Ever since he went out with Florence."

"You think he's pining for her?" Cabe chuckled. "I don't think it was that serious. They only went out a few times."

"He fell in love with. . .with. . ." The mechanic's upper lip curled up in disgust.

"The Bitch-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?" the psychiatrist prompted.

"Yeah, her. He thinks he fell in love with her at first sight. How do we know he didn't do the same with the chemist-next-door?" She eyed her husband suspiciously. "Did he ever say anything to you about Flo?"

"Nope. He's been pretty tight-lipped about women in general since. . .well, since The Bitch-Who. . ."

"Okay, I get it." Happy sighed wearily. "So if it's not Florence. . . The anniversary of the Bitch's betrayal was a couple weeks ago. Maybe that's why he's acting like a whipped puppy. What if. . " Pausing she took a deep breath. "What if he's decided to take another crack at offing himself?"

"Wouldn't he have done it already if. . .?" The shrink's question trailed off as his wife aimed a kick at his groin.

"How can you be so apathetic about. . .? She interrupted herself as she dashed her hand at her eyes. 

"Okay, okay," Toby said, no doubt realizing she was about to go ballistic.

"She's right." Sylvester glanced up from his keyboard. "It should only take him half an hour to install a router, 45 minutes if he had an incompatibility issue with old wiring." The human calculator pushed up his glasses as he looked from Happy to Cabe. "Can you get an APB put out on Walter's car?"

"Good idea, Sly." Happy looked so, well happy, Cabe was reluctant to burst her bubble.

"He's a big boy," he said with sigh, knowing he was treading in dangerous territory. "He's probably just tired of being on the short leash you all are keeping him on."

"Dammit, Cabe." The fact her words were barely above a whisper scared the crap out of him. 

"It's been over a year, sweetheart," he said. "I don't think Walter's going to do anything stupid. . ."

"Everything he's done since he met. . . _her_. . . has been stupid," Happy countered. 

Cabe bit off a gruff laugh. "He was in love. Men do a lot of stupid things when they're in love." He glanced in Allie's direction, giving her a wink, and was pleased she blushed in response.

"Yeah, but O'Brien isn't like most men," the mechanic persisted. "He's a genius who blames himself for everything little that goes wrong. Couple that with his god complex and his ‘greater good' fixation. . ."

"Can you just indulge us a little, Cabe?" said the shrink, interrupting his wife's list of Walter's faults. "Happy's right. 197 has been more withdrawn lately. I've been keeping an eye on him, what with it being a year since The-Bitch-Who. . ."

"Yeah, we get it, you read Harry Potter," the agent cut him off. "Fine, I call my contact at the LAPD. I still think you're worried over nothing. He probably just got distracted and lost track of time."

"For almost four hours?" Happy made a point of staring at her watch. Then her face relaxed as she moved closer, laying a hand on his arm. "Thanks, Cabe."

"No problem, kid." Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his cell and started tapping the screen.

_____

Toby followed Happy as they spilled out of Cabe's SUV. A gust of wind off the ocean nearly ripped his fedora off his head.

"You see his car anywhere?" he asked his wife, clamping down his hat.

"Not yet." The shrink glanced at her grim face, thinking she was acting as if the police had found Walter's body instead of his car in the parking lot at Zuma Beach. 

"There it is." Sylvester pointed to a dark vehicle in the next row over. 

Cabe reached the car first, trying one of the Malibu's doors. "Locked," he announced as he peered through the windows. "There's a blanket on the back seat, but I don't see anything else."

"Let's split up and comb the beach," said Happy. "He's gotta be around here somewhere."

They spent the next half hour walking from one end of the shore to the other. Sand poured over the tops of Toby's sneakers, sifting through his socks, working its grittiness in between his toes. 

He stopped to dump out out his shoes as Happy and Allie approached from different directions. "Why bother?" asked his wife. "You're just going to get more in them walking back to the car."

"I hate sand," he replied. 

"Whatever, Anakin." The mechanic turned to Allie. "So no sign of him, huh?"

The other woman shook her head. "I don't think Cabe and Sylvester had any luck either," she announced as the two men came trudging toward them.

"How in the hell does a 160 pound pain in the ass just disappear into thin air?" asked Happy, her eyes suspiciously damp.

"Maybe we should ask the lifeguard?" Sly indicated the woman sitting on the elevated white chair about 50 meters away. "Maybe she's seen him?"

"I'll do it," volunteered Happy. Stuffing her hands into her jacket, she waded through the loose sand. Just as she'd predicted, sand refilled his sneakers as Toby followed her to the rescue station.

"Hey!" The mechanic shouted up at the lifeguard, who up close, appeared to be in her late teens. "You see a guy in his 30s, about six feet tall? With dark curly hair?" she asked when she caught the girl's attention.

"No, but I just came on shift about fifteen minutes ago," the girl said, shivering a little. "Is this guy like your husband or something?"

"No, he's my boss." Toby was surprised steam wasn't whistling out of his wife's ears. 

"Why do you want to find him?" the girl asked as she zipped up her windbreaker. "Day off from work." Draping a towel over her legs, she added, "It's too freaking cold to go swimming. The only reason I even have to be here is because there was a drowning earlier this afternoon. Safety regulations or whatever." 

"A drowning?" Happy whipped around to glower at Toby and the others. "Here? Was it a. . ."

The lifeguard shrugged indifferently. "No idea." 

"Listen here, you little bi. . ." The shrink rushed over to the mechanic as she put her foot on one of the chair's cross beams. Wrapping his arms around her, he dragged her across the sand. Happy didn't go quietly. "Dammit, Toby. . ." she growled, struggling to free herself. "You son of a bitch, let me go." She finally broke away, panting angrily as she stared at her husband. 

"Calm down" he said, raising his hands like a shield. "We don't know that it was him." Although the odds certainly didn't look good. 

"Because you won't let me ask that stupid bitch. . ." She wiped at her eyes again, dashing away the tears he could see forming. 

Resentment mixed with jealousy flared inside him. Why was she crying over Walter's disappearance? When Collins had kidnapped _him_ , she'd been ready to wring his neck because she thought he'd stood her up. And then she'd turned down his marriage proposal because. . .

He regretted the next words out of his mouth the second he'd uttered them. "You sure are getting unreasonably distraught over someone who's your ex-husband." Especially when her right fist hit his left cheek hard enough to knock his hat off his head and causing him to stumble backward, landing on his ass.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. . . I'm so sorry. . ." Happy fell to her knees, the horror on her face almost comical. "Toby. . . I'm sorry. . . I didn't. . ."

Toby sat in the sand, rubbing his throbbing jaw. She'd hit him before but never with so much fury. But then he'd never provoked her so far before. "I shouldn't've. . ." 

"No. . ." She put her hand on her stomach. "Oh, shit, I'm gonna be sick." Falling forward, her arms bracing her, she hurled the contents of her stomach onto the sand.

"Oh dear. Are you all right?" Allie squatted down beside her, offering a packet of tissues from her purse. Happy pulled out a couple, using them to wipe her mouth.

" "The only reason he was my husband in the first," she said between hiccups, "is that he's my best friend. He's the only one I had for a long time and I didn't want to lose him." Sitting back up, Happy looked at Toby and behind her remorse, he could see the truth of her words. 

"I know that," said the shrink. "I apologize for being a jealous ass."

"Yeah, you were, but I still shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry for that."

"Hey, it wasn't him." Sly held out his phone as Toby helped her to her feet. "Look, it was up the coast at El Matador. A teenage boy got caught in a rip tide. Happy, it wasn't Walter."

"Doesn't change the fact he's still missing," she snapped, pushing the cell away.

"Like I said before," replied Cabe, "he's a grown man who's been on a short leash for over a year. I say we cut him some slack." He looked at his watch. "It's just after five. If he doesn't turn up by the time it gets dark, then we come back here and try to track him down."

"I second that," said Toby. He really didn't want to hang out at windy, chilly, sandy beach any longer than necessary. And he didn't think Happy should either.

"That's not for another couple of hours," the mechanic pointed out, her dander up once again. "A lot could happen in two hours."

"Not if he's already dead," Sly murmured.

"What did you say?" Happy whirled around to confront the human calculator, who took a step back.

"Nothing I care to repeat." 

"I thought so." She spun around, marching toward the parking lot. Toby sighed as he followed after her once again. There was more going on with his wife than her worry over their boss. He just didn't know if he was brave enough to find out what.

_____

Walter groaned Paige's name as she collapsed on top of him, both of them breathing harshly. He wished they could stay in each other's arms, just the two of them in their own little world forever.

But he knew he had to leave soon. He'd already been away from the garage long enough to arouse concern and suspicion. He needed a good excuse for his prolonged absence. And a shower; the scent of sex and lavender lingering on his skin a dead giveaway of what he'd been doing. . .and with whom. 

He certainly couldn't tell them the truth. Not only because they all still blamed Paige for his aborted suicide attempt, but because he wanted to keep her all to himself. He didn't know how to ask her to keep their renewed relationship a secret though. Worry she would think he was ashamed of her, which he definitely was not, flowed through him and he shifted restlessly.

"Everything okay?" Paige rose up, brushing her hair from her face. 

"Everything is. . .perfect." He smiled at her, a smile she noticed didn't reach his eyes.

She knew he was going to have to leave soon. She didn't want him to go, wishing they could stay like this forever, just the two of them in their own little world. Not only because she'd like to keep him all to herself, but because she didn't want Ralph to get his hopes up. To bring Walter back into her son's life then have everything fall apart again. . . Ralph would never forgive her. He already hated her so much he'd been dropping unsubtle hints he wanted to go live in Maine with Drew.

She wondered how to ask him to keep their renewed relationship a secret without making him think she was reluctant to be with him. Which she definitely wasn't. Rolling off of him, she snuggled up beside him, swiping her finger down his nose. 

"Walter, I think. . ." 

"Paige, I was wondering. . ." 

"You go first," she said with a giggle.

"No, you." He wanted to hear what she had to say before he spoke his mind. Maybe he was stressing over nothing.

Heaving a sigh, she began, "Walter, this has been wonderful but. . ."

Panic rose up inside him, his stomach twisting into knots as his worst fear was realized. She didn't want to be with him. This had been an aberration and she'd come to her senses.

"Paige, I. . . Please," he pleaded, not knowing what he could do to change her mind, but he had to try.

"But," she continued, ignoring his interruption. His chest began to constrict. "Please don't take this the wrong way." Too late, he thought as it grew harder to breathe. 

"I'd like to keep this, us. . . I'd like to keep it between the two of us for awhile."

His relief was instant. She wasn't dumping him at all. In fact, she was unwittingly agreeing with his own desires.

"I-I think it's. . .it's a good idea."

"You do?" Paige was a little surprised he would fall in with her request so easily. 

"Yeah. When we were, uh, together before. . ." He paused as if he were searching for the right words. "It felt like we were in a Petri dish, our every move being observed and dissected."

Her paranoia subsided as she nodded. "You're right. That's exactly how it felt. People breathing down our necks, waiting for one of us to make a mistake and when. . ." Swallowing past the lump which suddenly grew in her throat, she went on, "And when I. . .I. . ." Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she thought of how she'd betrayed him. God, she'd been so stupid. 

She must have said her last thought aloud because Walter gathered her into his arms. "No, you're not stupid. And you're right, there was a lot of unwanted interference." He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I want this to work, for us to work. We tried the other way and . . ."

"I want us to work too," she said with a sniff. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." He began kissing her, starting with her mouth then working his way down her neck. "I need to go," he murmured before nipping her left ear.

"I know." Desire pooled between her legs as she could feel him surging against her. "I don't want you to."

"I don't want. . ." He gasped as her hand wandered down his chest to his stomach. "I don't want to either," he said in a strangled voice

"One more time?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"One more time," he agreed with a groan.


End file.
